


The Mother Dragons

by SydNotSydney



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: AU!Rhaella Lives, F/M, Fanfiction, Gen, Mentions of past abuse, R plus L equals J
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-25
Updated: 2018-01-23
Packaged: 2018-07-18 02:31:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 13
Words: 46,910
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7295965
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SydNotSydney/pseuds/SydNotSydney
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rhaella Targaryen never was given a choice in life. Even the tiniest of things, such as dress color or shape, was always chosen without her opinion. It's only until Rhaella's world is ending that she does choose, and her choice changes everything.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Beginning of The End

While Dragonstone shakes from the storms and suffers under siege, the Queen screams. Rhaella tries not to, for her son's sake, but the pain is absolutely unbearable. It feels like she is being ripped into two by the babe she's bringing into the world, and she can't help but scream. No pain has ever compared to this, not ever, except... Rhaegar. The feeling of grief that overwhelms her for her first babe makes this birth seem like one of Viserys's scraped knees, for nothing can compare to the loss of your first child, or in Rhaella's case, her world. She cannot let herself dwell on Rhaegar though, because if she does she knows she will surely die too and while she may feel like she is dying she cannot die just yet. She has Viserys, her king, whom will need her if he's to grow to adulthood and someday win back his throne and this babe, who's screams Rhaella prays will soon join her own. They will both need her so Rhaella, ever dutiful, continues to scream, forcing herself to live for a little while longer at least.

Rhaella is half-lucid when the maester finally places the babe into her arms, yet it somehow resonates with her that her babe is a girl and that she hasn't died yet, unlike almost all of the babes that Rhaella has birthed before. The name Daenerys somehow occurs to her and while she's unsure if she has said it aloud when darkness overcomes her and if they'll even live to see the night through, she can't help but to smile at the rightness that settles in her chest when Daenerys is laid in her arms and her daughter's chest lifts with her ragged breaths. Rhaella Targaryen succumbs to darkness with her son Viserys's hand in her own and her daughter sleeping soundly in her arms, and while one son is missing from this scene there's still a part of her that feels joy at her little family's temporary safety and security.

When Rhaella awakes, she awakes to her son's whimpering and the sound of soldiers pounding on the door. To her pleasant surprise it is merely her Kingsguard knight, Ser Willem Darry, though the news he brings with him is obviously grave. "Your Grace, we must move now! The Usurper's men shall break through soon and we must get the royal heirs to safety!" He exclaims gruffly while the maester tries to interject that she is in no fit state to travel, she doesn't have much of a choice. Her children must leave this place so she will too. Eventually after arguing with the maester and Ser Willem, she is half-escorted and half-carried to a smugglers ship.

When they finally get on the boat, Rhaella is positive she's dying. The pain of just getting on the boat is overwhelming enough and she's bleeding profusely from attempting to move. She almost blacks out from the anguish of it all until she sees Viserys's terrified face and she wills herself to hang on a little while longer, to soothe her king's tears and make sure that it's not to Braavos they head, as it was suggested, but rather some place else. A place of peace and children's laughter. A place of sunlight and hopefully, safety. As darkness grasps her into its palms, a vision of a little Dornish girl dancing around the Red Keep with a black cat comes unbidden to her eyes and Rhaella is certain that no pain in this world, not even death, could compare to her grief. 

In darkness Rhaella sees light, as her beautiful baby boy comes to her. Rhaegar's voice is as strong and clear as she had remembered and the sound of it makes Rhaella weep. 

"Mother." He calls to her, the same quiet sadness ringing clear in his voice as it had since boyhood. "Mother." He calls once more and before she knows it she's hanging in his arms, sobbing hysterically into him. He was always so warm in her arms but now as she leans into him, he's cold, so so cold. "When you're dead you're cold mother. The sun doesn't shine on the dead." Rhaegar says warily and she steps back in surprise at his answer to her unspoken question.  
It's a mistake though, since as soon as she steps back he's gone, disappearing as though he was never truly there to begin with. She sinks to her knees in her anguish. Her grief rings in her chest like a wound as a stern voice fills the air. 

"Choose." A voice commands calmly and at first she's unclear about where the voice is coming and what it means until she sees. She's been moved somehow and now stands between darkness and light. 

In the darkness her remaining children stand, Viserys and Daenerys. They look haggard and worn despite only being and a few years older and when she looks into their purple eyes at first she sees nothing but despair. This is only for a moment though. When she locks eyes with Viserys again, his desperate pleas ring in her ears, and she watches as the scene before her shifts once more. In the darkness she sees her first babe, cold and pale but okay overall. He's somewhat alive, or so he appears, and with him is his little Rhaenys and sweet Aegon. Beside him also seem to be two young men and a young woman, people she instinctively know are the young children she's lost. Her eldest daughter stands as the spitting image of her namesake, Rhaella's mother, Shaera. Her dead daughter has sharp violet eyes and a steely smile and seeing her laughing beside her brothers, as she should of in life, makes Rhaella's heart ache. She also cannot help but laugh in pure joy to see her two lost boys are just as alive as well. Sweet Daeron, who only lived a few month, has the same lively lilac eyes as he had when he was a babe, and seems to have all the joy in death his elder brother didn't have in life. Lastly, Aegon, not her grandson but her Aegon, is thick with muscle and has amethyst eyes that shine with lighthearted, unspoken laughter. Just seeing them brings tears to her eyes and she thinks her choice is clear until the scene shifts to one of light. 

The light is harsh on her eyes but full of laughter and something like happiness. She sees a little Daenerys being chased by two little boys while Viserys and an obviously Dornish girl laughs behind them. The taller of the two is obviously Dornish, with his thick, black curls and copper skin but when Rhaella manages to catch his eye she sees Daenerys's violet eyes and to say she's confused is an understatement. The shorter boy is not as pale as Daenerys or Viserys, yet he is not as dark as the Dornish boy. This younger boy is rather somewhere between. His hair is a light brown, his skin is tan, and most surprisingly his eyes are Viserys's lilac, pale and beautiful. Rhaella tries to grab their attention and call out to see who they are, but before she can the beautiful scene shifts again and instead of beauty and childish happiness she's greeted with war. It is light and golden, yet heavy with the stench of blood. She watches as the Dornish boy from before stands before her as a man, managing to strike enemy after enemy down with his spear. Beside him, an unfamiliar man stands with a long face and sad, dark grey eyes in white armor drenched red with blood. The unfamiliar man battles well, but rather than fighting with a spear he fights with a sword and something about his lanky build and melancholic attitude is oddly familiar. Before she can place him though, the scene is ripped away from her eyes. 

"Choose." Another voice repeats, this one oddly sounding like her father, the same man who never allowed her a choice in life. She wants to choose Rhaegar and his family, even if it means the rest of her families sadness. She wants to choose him because she wants an explanation to his choices and because she misses her firstborn and his children more than words can describe. She also wants to choose the dark because she wants to know the children she lost. She wants to choose him, his family, and his siblings more than anything but she also remembers the childish happiness from the scenes before and how Rhaegar, as well as all her children and even her grandchildren, looked more dead than alive and cannot. In a single swift moment she steps into the light, and before she can go back to consider if this is truly the choice she wants she awakens.


	2. The Road to Destiny

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rhaella Targaryen and her children make their way to the only place of safety left to them in Westeroes but their journey isn't as easy as one would think.

Rhaella awakens to golden sunlight shifting into her violet eyes while Daenerys sleeps on her chest. They are on a boat, and anxiety grips her heart like a vice at first when she doesn't see Viserys. Her fears are calmed though by Ser Willem when he catches her eye and slips out the room to return with her son. Viserys rushes to her and smiles brightly when she sees she is awake.

"Mother!" He exclaims as he hugs her tightly and she moves to hug him back until Daenerys whimpers between them. 

"How long have I been asleep?" She questions lightly as she shifts Daenerys into her arms. 

"Three days Mama." Viserys answers as he brushes Daenerys's hand with his thumb. 

"How close are we to Dorne?" She asks quietly to Ser Willem as Viserys makes faces to his baby sister.

"Getting closer, Your Grace. We are almost to Tarth." Ser Willem responds gravely.

"Have we been stopped?" 

"Once, Your Grace. They only checked the cargo and not the sleeping areas, thankfully."  
She managed a small nod to the old man as he backs out of the room to guard the door.

Ser Willem Darry was an old man and not the knight that he once was, but in many ways he was a better knight than any of the young, strapping men of court. He was loyal and true despite all of the horrors he'd seen, and he'd done more than his duty called for time and time again. She could never thank him enough, truly. 

"Ser Willem?" She called back suddenly, surprising the older knight.

"Your Grace?" He answered back respectfully, his mailed fist struggling to hold the door open as the ocean rocked the boat back and forth.

"I... I just wanted to tell you how thankful I am for your service. Your loyalty shall never be forgotten." She responds, a shaky smile tugging at her lips.

"It's my duty, Your Grace. Yet I am honored to have your thankfulness all the same." Ser Willem responds gruffly, a small smile playing on his lips. 

With Ser Willem on guard, Rhaella was alone with her children for the first time since she had given birth. Viserys smiled so sweetly at Daenerys that it made her heart hurt, and Daenerys in turn seemed to be amazed by her older brother. 

Daenarys seemed to have already caught her brother's heart and she was catching her's as well. It was the first time she truly looked at her daughter. She was weary from what she knew what could happen to her. Yet, she couldn't help herself in the end. She looked so much like him, like the babe she couldn't bear thinking about. She had his smile, his nose, his ears, his everything. She wanted to weep. Was it a blessing or a curse? 

"Mama, why are we going to Dorne?" Viserys asked abruptly, his sister forgotten for a moment.

"We're going to Dorne because that's the safest place for us now, my love." She answers carefully. Viserys is eight years old now, old enough to understand death. She doesn't want to remind him of his losses if she can help it, though.

"Elia is from Dorne." Her boy responds carefully.

"She is."

"Can we meet her, Rhaenys, and Aegon in Dorne then? I promise I'll be really good! I'll make sure to include Aegon and Daenerys when Rhaenys and I play too, even if they are babies." Viserys responds brightly, hope brimming in his lilac eyes. 

She swallows carefully, weighing her answers. She thought she had told him, she swears it, yet not even Viserys could play pretend with such a fact. 

"Viserys, my love.." She begins before her voice betrays her and breaks. Viserys looks heartbroken. "Viserys, they are with Rhaegar." 

Viserys only looks at her for a moment, only a moment, before sobbing in such a way she has never heard before. His sobs are so loud, it's like he's screaming. Daenerys joins in his crying as well, empathetic to her brother's grief.

She holds her children tight, her own grief encompassing her. She wanted to scream with them, wanted to let her grief be free, yet she cannot and that hurts too.

The rest of their journey is much of the same. Grief and pain aches harsh in her chest and Viserys grows older in those few days than all of his past eight years combined. Her little boy is becoming a little king and it hurts to see him grow so old so young. 

The moment Viserys's position really begins to weigh on him is the moment she manages to crown him.

"Ser Willem would you summon my son please? And grab the bag containing our possessions." She calls out, uncertain if she is truly strong enough to get out of bed and manage her plan.

"At once, Your Grace." Ser Willem responds, his voice muffled by the door. It's only after a few minutes of scuffling does the door open to reveal her son and their possessions.

"Mother." Her sweet son says hollowly before dipping into a small bow.

They barely managed to gather any of their Targaryen family heirlooms, yet Rhaella had made sure to take Aegon III's first crown if the unthinkable occurred and Rhaegar fell, leaving Aegon or Viserys as crown prince. It would be the only Targaryen crown that would fit Viserys right now after all. Aegon III had been crowned as a boy after his family was all but destroyed by the Dance of Dragons, and it was said that such deaths weighed heavily on him all his life. Rhaella hoped Viserys would not be weighed down so heavily, but she knew such hopes would most likely be in vain.

"My son, my sweet, sweet son. I fear what I am about to give you. I fear that it shall weigh you down, and suffocate you with its past and what it shall mean for your future. I am your mother Viserys. I will always do what I can to protect you and Daenerys but sometimes it's not enough. I cannot protect you from what this item brings my son, and that is what I fear the most. So please, my son, promise me something." Rhaella tries to keep her voice from shaking while she makes her speech about power and crowns, for Viserys sake, but she cannot help it. Fear grips her heart too tightly, and Rhaella Targaryen is tired. 

"What do you mean Mother? I mean of course Mother, anything you want I shall promise, but what do you speak of?" Viserys asks, his hollow, grief-filled voice changing into one of absolute fear.

"I speak of a crown Viserys, your crown, and how it could it could change you, and possibly the whole world. A crown means power, my son. You must understand what I am giving you, as your brother before you once did and your father before you did not. So promise me something. Promise me that the crown and kingship will not change you, my son. Promise that despite everything you have gone through, and have yet to go through, that you will remain strong and true and just. Promise me that you will remember your people when you make decisions and not let power blind you. Promise me that when the time comes and you sit the Iron Throne as Viserys Targaryen, the Third of His Name, the second Conquer of the Seven Kingdoms that you'll also sit that throne as Viserys Targaryen, the little boy who used to beg his mother for scary stories about dragons before bed, and dance with his little niece standing on his toes at feast. Promise, my son, that you'll not lose your golden heart and kind soul. Promise me." Rhaella half speaks, half begs. She cannot let her son become another Aerys, or Aegon the Unworthy, or Maegor the Cruel. She cannot lose her second son like she once lost her first, and she most definitely cannot lose her son like she once lost her once beloved brother.

"I promise Mother. I promise, I promise, I promise." Her son says, tears streaming down his face. 

So she crowns him. Aegon III's crown is jagged and harsh, with flints of polished rubies being spread out randomly in what seems to be jagged onyx pieces that was forged together. It's a cruel crown and placing it on Viserys's pale curls is too much for Rhaella to handle. She cannot help it when she finally weeps.

It is only a few nights after Viserys's crowing that Ser Willem abruptly announces their arrival in Sunspear.

Concealed by the night, they are smuggled away. Her legs ache from disuse as Ser Willem rushes her and Viserys along the dusty, cobbled streets and her heart can't help but to begin to hammer nervously. 

The Martells' had every right to be upset at her family after what Rhaegar did, yet that didn't mean they would turn them away, did it? 

She didn't get a chance to wonder long though, because before long they were at the gates of the castle, waiting for the guards to unlock the door. The gates of Sunspear loomed taller than anything Rhaella could seem to remember and the sharp spears that made up the gate seemed to loom dangerously close. Everything about the castle seemed to loom and watch Rhaella and her children, from the sharp gate, to the golden sandstone castle, and even the blood red mountains that were far in the distance. Uneasily, Rhaella couldn't help but recall that in those mountains Rhaella's ancestors had bled. Yet uneasy or not, Rhaella had made a choice and had no other options but to see it through. 

The stars and gods alike seemed to watch warily as Rhaella Targaryen and her children entered Sunspear and went toward their destiny.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so I know it's a weird choice for Rhaella to not have told Viserys as soon as news of Rhaenys, Aegon, and Elia's deaths reaches them, but I thought that it would be more in character of Rhaella if she would try and spare her son the knowledge of his family members' deaths because she most likely thought they'd die soon anyways, so her son might as well not die sad. I don't know, maybe it's just me, but tell me what you think in the comments below and don't forget to leave kudos if you enjoyed! Thank you!


	3. Even Friends can be Enemies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meeting with Doran and Oberyn Martell, Rhaella tries to make a deal for safety while also being cryptically warned of incoming danger.

"Rhaella Targaryen." Doran Martell half-greeted and half-sighed. "What brings you to Sunspear?"

Doran Martell was calm for a man just woken up in the middle of the night to be told that the former Queen and her children were at his doorstep.

"Lord Martell, there is no where else we can go. Dorne is the last place in the world that is safe for my children. If you or your family were ever loyal to House Targaryen, then you will protect me and my children." Rhaella's voice was even and commanding, despite her hands shaking and her heart pounding. She needed to be strong now. 

"House Martell has proven it's loyalty to House Targaryen a thousand times over in this damned war, and it has gotten us nowhere. House Martell has lost enough." Doran says calmly, his quiet anger and grief only barely distorting his commanding voice.

"Doran, please. Your mother and I were the best of friends as girls. I remember your mother's wedding day, the day you were born, the first day your mother presented you to court, the day your siblings were born, the day they were brought to court, and the day your beautiful, just mother was laid to rest in these very walls. I was the one who convinced Aerys that Elia would be the best option for Rhaegar after the death of our cousin Lord Baratheon's failed sea venture. I-" Doran cuts her off before she can completely plead her and her children's case.

"You were the one who convinced Aerys, the man who kept my sister and her children as hostages and got them killed, of marrying my sister to your son, the man who broke her heart and left her children and her defenseless? I should refuse you on that alone." Doran's voice is scarily calm while making such a proclamation that fear doesn't begin to describe what has stricken Rhaella's heart. 

"I grieve for Elia, Rhaenys, and Aegon everyday. There's not one day I am not haunted by the vision of sweet Rhaenys chasing her feisty kitten around the keep, or young Aegon gripping my finger fiercely in his tiny fist. Elia haunts me as well. I never had a daughter before, but as soon as Elia arrived she was it. She wasn't like a daughter to me. She was a daughter to me. I miss them all everyday Doran." She begs while half-pleading, and half-sobbing.

She fears for a moment that her tears will not be enough, that Dorna Martell will dump them onto the dusty cobblestone that makes up the port town surrounding Sunspear with nothing but their meager possession and names left to them. Yet, Doran Martell's eyes speak a story of weariness and grief, giving Rhaella hope.

"I.. I have forgotten myself, Your Grace. I have forgotten my duty. It's just... You ask a very dangerous thing of me." Doran says, wearily. 

"I know Doran. Trust me, I know. There isn't any guarantees in life and I am asking you to put your family in an immense amount of danger, yet if you do this for us now House Targaryen shall be in your debt." Rhaella proclaims shakily, her heart pounding harshly against her chest.

Doran only considers this for a moment before responding. "Of course you can have a home here. As long as I reign as Prince, there will be safety for you and your children in Dorne." 

Doran looks so old while proclaiming such a statement that's it's the first time Rhaella remembers he's only a bit older than Rhaegar, still young, and far to young to have lost his mother, sister, niece, and nephew in such a small amount of time. 

"This safety does not come without a price though. We shall meet in the morning to discuss such things." Doran says, and his voice, though weary and cautious, has a finality in it that even Rhaella cannot argue with. She is weary herself and is glad at least for this temporary peace.

Doran motions a young man, presumably a servant, forward. He doesn't command him however, instead he whispers quickly into his ear. The interaction is odd, Rhaella decides by the time the mysterious man begins his way towards her and her children. 

Rhaella faintly remembered Oberyn Martell visiting the Red Keep when he was younger. He had a been a hyper boy, never sitting down and always sneaking away from his mother to run about the Red Keep. Curious and wild, Rhaella couldn't remember what the boy had looked like or exactly why he was visiting court, yet she could remember his mother, Loreza, complaining about his behavior to her endlessly.

More clearly though, Rhaella remembers the aggressive and sharp young man who had visited court only a few years ago. Oberyn had came to court to see Elia after the birth of Rhaenys. He had been little more than a man grown then, and ruggedly handsome. There had been many women of court who had been intrigued with him when he visited. She could even hear Elia's laughter when she was told one of her own maids was supposedly seduced by her beloved brother.

"Aye that would be Oberyn. He was sent to Oldtown for a reason after all, gods help us. Half the realm will be Sands because of him one day." Elia had proclaimed with a boisterous bout of giggles. 

Elia Martell had always had a gentle heart and a kind soul, Rhaella recalled sadly. The girl was too little like her mother to ever do well at court, yet Rhaella had taken a liking to her the day she came to court to be Rhaegar's bride. Sickly as she had been that day, Elia still had a graceful beauty to her that even Rhaella admired. With her inky black curls flowing freely behind her and a dress that seemed to shine like the sun Elia, sickly or not, seemed to appear a goddess on the day she had wedded Rhaella's own Rhaegar.

She also recalled why Elia's smile and boisterous laughter had been especially sweet the day she proclaimed Oberyn's sins. It was a few days after Aerys proclaimed Rhaenys to be "too Dornish" and Elia had been completely distraught with the idea that her daughter wasn't good enough for the Iron Throne. Even with Rhaegar and herself trying to console her by offering words of comfort, it had still taken the Princess's own beloved brother to finally get her out of her state of anxiety and sadness.

"Your Grace." Oberyn said, disrupting her sweet memories. "If you will follow me, I'll take you to you and your children's rooms." 

"Of course." She responded as she took Oberyn's arm in her own. Viserys and Ser Willem followed quietly behind them. 

The walk through the moonlit palace was a quiet one. Oberyn Martell seemed to be brooding on something or another, and she was too preoccupied with making sure Daenerys didn't slip from her arm to make any good conversation anyways. 

"Is there anything else you will need, Your Grace?" Oberyn asked when they finally arrived at what would be their rooms.

"I do not think so. Thank you for asking though." She replied courteously. She began making her way inside until Oberyn suddenly grabbed her arm tightly.

"You should be warned Your Grace." He said suddenly, his voice soft and careful, while moonlight illuminated the sharp, viper-like grin on his face.

"Of?" She asked carefully.

"Debts. Debts have been made and we both know debts are made to be paid." He replied cryptically before turning and leaving.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this chapter is a bit shorter, but the next chapter is so long I figured I had to balance the extra long chapter out one way or another so this is what I chose to do. Despite the chapter length, I hope you guys liked this chapter! If you did I'd really appreciate if you could leave kudos and comments! Also I think to make up for this chapter being smaller I'll be releasing the next chapter tomorrow, so be on the lookout!


	4. The Price of Safety

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rhaella meets with Doran and Oberyn, as well as another, in an attempt to negotiate payment for Rhaella and her children's stay in Dorne.

The night was pretty in Dorne yet Rhaella couldn't bring herself to appreciate such a thing when worry gripped her heart like a viper.

"Mother, look at the stars! " Viserys exclaimed brightly, his lilac eyes wide with excitement. It was the first time in weeks he acted like the sweet, happy boy he had once been.

"What did he say, Your Grace?" Ser Willem asked quietly.

"Not with Viserys here." She replied back. In response Ser Willem only nodded.

"Come on little King. Even dragons need their rest." Ser Willem called out sweetly, obviously trying his best to lure Viserys to bed.

In response the boy king turned his eyes away from the beautiful, shining sky and the rich red valley below. 

"I don't want to go to bed." Viserys complained with a pout written on his face.

"I know Your Grace, yet how can you be a strong and reliable King if you are too tired to rule?" Ser Willem asked her son as he scooped up Viserys into his arms.

"Kings don't need to go to bed, especially not dragon kings. I mean technically..." Viserys began to argue as Ser Willem carried him through the solar where Daenerys slept toward the room that would be his.

As soon as Viserys and Ser Willem disappeared behind the door to his room, Rhaella sank down on to her bed and wept. She had thought they had finally found peace! Dorne was supposed to be a place of safety for her children and herself, yet the gods decided that she'd never know safety again. 

"Your Grace..." Ser Willem said softly. "The prince is asleep." 

"King, Ser Willem. He is the king now." She corrected with a hollow chuckle. "He is a king without a throne and men who will die for him. He's a king who's not a king."

"Your Grace, Viserys has many loyal vassals and just because Robert Baratheon sits the throne now doesn't mean he always will." Ser Willem responds assuredly. 

"Robert Baratheon won't always sit the Iron Throne, that you have right. Someday his son will sit it and his son's son after that, and all the while Viserys and Daenerys will struggle to even live long enough to possibly have children." She says shakily, tears unwillingly coming to her eyes. 

"What did Oberyn say to you for you to even think such things, Your Grace?" Ser Willem asks, his voice deadly serious.

"He said the truth. Dorne has debts. Debts that must be paid. What better way to pay then fire and blood?" She responds while she runs her fingers through her hair worriedly.

"Doran Martell will not. If he dares to even attempt to do such a thing I will strike him down. Then I'll strike his whole bloody family down. I'll do whatever it takes to keep you and your children safe." Ser Willem says in a cold fury.

"I just.. I wanted to keep them safe. I thought Dorne would be the safest. How could I of known? How could I?" She asks, though to whom she does not know. 

"You couldn't of known any of this, You Grace." Ser Willem awkwardly soothes. "And you still might not. The Red Viper is not his brother. Perhaps Prince Doran sees things differently."

"That is unlikely."

"Perhaps, but it does not do to dwell on what is out of our control. Whatever happens tomorrow you will face it, and you, as well as I, will make sure that your children are safe." Ser Willem says assuredly as he begins to make his way out of her rooms and to his post outside.

"How can you be so sure, Ser Willem?" Rhaella asks, her voice betraying her own cynicism and doubt.

"I cannot help but be assured, Your Grace. I mean you of all people deserve my confidence. If anyone can survive the viper's pit that is Dorne and the battle that we'll surely have to rage against the Prince and his brother, it is you." Ser Willem says while a kind smile makes his way to his lips.

"I cannot fathom how you have such confidence, ser, yet I appreciate it nonetheless." 

To her statement the old knight just chuckles. "Oh Rhaella. How could you ever doubt your strength after all you've survived?"

Ser Willem most definitely had a point yet Rhaella was far too stubborn to listen. She had survived a lot, that she couldn't deny, but that's because she hadn't had any other options. She survived because her children needed her, and she needed them as well. The idea of surviving without them was unfathomable. 

"What else could I do Ser Willem, but survive? I had my children who needed me." Rhaella stated, suddenly weary as her thoughts began to dwindle and shift toward Rhaegar.

"Exactly my point, Your Grace. Now if I may be excused, I'd like to return to my post. I don't trust these Dornishmen." Ser Willem says as he already begins backing out of the room, not even waiting for Rhaella's acknowledgement.

After Ser Willem departs Rhaella does her best to rest. Yet, no matter what she does or tries sleep continues to evade her. The featherbed is too soft and steady after nights upon the sea with a mattress packed with straw, and the room is too loud in its silence. 

It is only when dawn finally arrives, and a servant arrives to summon her to Prince Doran's solar, that Rhaella is almost relieved of her suffering, almost anyways. 

She is sure that she looks a mess, with bags under her violet eyes and her silver hair messy from tossing and turning all night, and she knows meeting the Prince and most likely his brother in such a way will not do. She had to look the queen she was. So when the servant of before arrives once more bearing a simple breakfast Rhaella uses her to her own advantage. With the servant girl's help, she manages to turn her messy hair into a silver-gold crown that highlights the harshness in her face, put there by golden, rich makeup, and the burning anger that has been deep inside her says her father announced to court her marriage to Aerys. She also manages to tuck her own crown under hair making her crowned twice. She would not have Prince Doran and his viper brother forget that she is a queen, after all. Lastly, she had managed to get herself into her own lilac and gold dress, which was decorated with gold and white dragons upon the hem and arguably her most beautiful, intricate gown. It also was a gift to her from her sweet good-daughter Elia, which was bittersweet even without the current circumstances.

Once she was dressed and ready, she finally made her way to Prince Doran, only stopping once to check on Daenerys and Viserys to make sure they were still breathing. After that, with a bit of the servants scattered about the keep's help, she managed to make it to Prince Doran's dreaded solar.

Prince Doran's solar managed to be just as beautiful as the rest of Sunspear. The pale sunlight of dawn shines into the room through tall windows, coloring the room a rich gold. The only part of the room that doesn't shine is where Oberyn resides. With his threatening presence, darkness seems to seep into the corner and dim the sunlight nearby. 

"Queen Rhaella, I am glad you could finally join us." Doran greets, interrupting her thoughts. The rudeness of her late arrival in the sake of appearance only barely straining his features.

"I'm sure. Shall we begin then?" Rhaella proposes, her voice commanding as she tries to take control of the meeting.

"In a moment, we still are waiting for one more person." Oberyn Martell cuts in, his voice sharp as a sword.

"One more-" Rhaella begins to ask before being cut off by the arrival of a mysterious woman.

Rhaella remembered that when Doran Martell was married it caused quite a stir at court. He had married for love, which was scandalous enough, yet he had not stole away a lord's daughter or married a merchants get not worthy being a Princess of Dorne. Prince Doran had married an unknown woman from a barely known city, Norvos. This Norvoshi women had caused quite a stir throughout Westeroes yet no one was quite sure why Doran had married her. She was not a known beauty or known for her independence and wit. There was nothing unique about her, at least not as Rhaella could recall, and as the woman stood in front of her now, Rhaella still couldn't see anything unique.

"Your Grace, my wife Mellario of Norvos." Doran announces, an edge to his voice.

Mellario, has the courtesy to at least nod to her, yet the foreign Princess of Dorne has her eyes fixed on her husband. Mellario is pretty, with her rich dark curls and dark, doe eyes, yet nothing particularly special. Rhaella still continues to wonder what could of drawn drab, cautious Doran to this young woman.

"Let us begin then." Oberyn Martell finally proposes, interrupting the tension between his brother and his wife.

"Yes. Now, Your Grace, what I'm about to propose is what I think will benefit both House Targaryen and House Martell the most." Doran begins, his eyes never leaving his wife. "I propose that your son Viserys, the heir to the Iron Throne, marry my daughter Arianne, the heir to Sunspear when the two of are age."

Rhaella had fully expected such a proposal. Yet, she could not sell her children in such a way, and even if she could, if Viserys and Arianne had a sweet daughter that looked like Rhaenys or a son that looked like Aegon as a babe she couldn't take it. 

"I understand why you propose such a thing, trust me I do, but I cannot accept such a proposal. I'm sure Arianne is a fine young lady, and that she shall make a great leader of Dorne someday, but I cannot live with myself if I sold my children like my father sold his." Rhaella responds, her heart pounding as she rejects their offer.

"You cannot be serious." Oberyn says, his voice dripping in disbelief.

"Your Grace, I understand your weariness in setting a betrothal after your own, but as my brother crudely said, you cannot be serious. You need us more than we need you. A betrothal is the only way to to tie our houses together, to keep your children safe." Doran explains, his voice rising in badly hidden anger.

"I will not sell my children like horses! Yes we need your help, but we are your lieges. Your help is something we should have even without a betrothal!" Rhaella argues, her own anger shining through.

"Robert Baratheon would argue with you on that." Oberyn responds darkly before Doran can cut him off.

"If not your son then your daughter, Your Grace. I have a son, only a few weeks older than your own Daenerys. His name is Quentyn, and he is heir to nothing. Yet when he is older he can rule Summerhall or Dragonstone in Daenerys's stead. That is the only other option you have, Your Grace." Doran Martell says stiffly.

"You two do not understand, you two are not mothers. I cannot sell Viserys to you. Even if I could, even if I did, I could not live with myself. If they ever bore children resembling the grandchildren I lost I think my grief would cause me to go mad. The same is true of your Quentyn and my Daenerys. I just couldn't do it." Rhaella speaks quietly, hoping that the Martell's grief for their own sister will make them reconsider their offers.

"I agree with the Queen. I do not like the idea of selling our children Doran." Mellario finally cuts in, oddly enough allying herself with Rhaella.

"It is not selling Mellario. Arianne would be Queen. Quentyn could be an heir to the throne." Doran Martell responds, his teeth gritted, betraying the fact they've had this argument before.

"Perhaps it is not selling to you Doran, yet you ask for a child in exchange for safety. Would you not call that bargaining and eventually selling?" Mellario responds, her Norvoshi accent heavy in her speech.

"And what would you propose then Mellario? House Martell and House Targaryen must be united by the time Robert figures out Rhaella fled here. If we're not, Robert can take Rhaella and her children from Dorne without reason, and we all know what will follow such taking." Doran shoots back, his voice weary and sharp all at once.

"House Targaryen and House Martell can still be joined without the involvement of children." Mellario responds to her husband, almost without thinking.

"Speak true, sister." Oberyn says impatiently.

"You are unwed, brother, and with the death of King Aerys, so is Her Grace." Mellario says quietly, while Rhaella's heart drops.

"You cannot be serious. Doran-" Oberyn Martell begins to protest but is cut off by Doran Martell's hand being put up, shushing him.

"It is not a deal I like yet it is still an option. What do you say Rhaella?" Doran asks, his voice dangerously calm.

What could she say? She would not sell her children, and she would not let her children fall into Robert Baratheon's grasp. Yet, she didn't want another husband. The only husband she had ever had was Aerys. Aerys who she had once loved, when they were both children. Aerys, who had once been her beloved brother. Aerys who had grown up to also be her hated husband, the one who led their house to failure. Aerys, the man who had hurt her beyond repair. The one who had damaged her body as well as her soul. How could she marry again after a man like Aerys? How could she not though?

"I accept the proposal." Rhaella responded quietly, her voice constricted by the tears she was hiding.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's the longer chapter I promised! Hopefully you enjoy it! I think you'll find the next chapter interesting, to say the least. Let me know what you thought of this chapter first though, by commenting and leaving kudos if you enjoyed!


	5. A Tenative Peace

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rhaella tries to come to terms with her situation while being overwhelmed by what marring into House Martell means.

"The wedding will be held in a fortnight then." Doran said, his voice harsh and commanding. "You are all dismissed."

Rhaella got up quickly. She needed to escape this dreaded solar, and fast. She felt as if she was going to be ill. 

It was all too much like that day long ago when Father called her and Aerys into his solar. She could practically see it, see her sickly father with his sunken, dark eyes looking wearily at her and Aerys, and see Aerys, still young and not mad, raging in the corner. He had screamed at their Father, called him horrible, horrible names, and said how she was an unfit wife for a future king. She could still hear it, hear Aerys's screaming...

"Your Grace?" Rhaella's eyes shot open as Mellario of Norvos loomed near. "Your Grace, are you alright? You look ill." 

Rhaella tried her best to smile, yet most of her energy was spent gripping the desk so hard knuckles were white. "I'm fine." She lied, with a forced smile that she knew looked more like a grimace.

"Well let me walk you to your rooms anyways. If not for your sake, then for mine." The younger women spoke as she slipped her arm into Rhaella's own.

They walked like that for a bit, Rhaella leaning more on Mellario than she'd like to admit, not that Mellario seemed to mind. It was only when they found a little alcove far away from Doran's solar did they finally stop.

"I'm sorry for my husband, Your Grace, and his brother. I do not always know Westeros custom, yet I cannot imagine it is always this cruel." Mellario spoke softly, kindness shining brightly in her dark brown eyes.

"At least they didn't take my children. That's all that matters." Rhaella replies quietly, her voice shaky.

At her mention of children, Mellario's shining eyes of kindness shift into blazing eyes of anger. "No child should ever be seperated from it's mother, nor should a child be used as payment." Mellario says hotly. 

"You're right, yet that's just how it is." Rhaella says, her breathing finally starting to even out as she focuses on the conversation and not her incoming marriage.

"It need not be! Yet that is a conversation for another day. Let us speak of your incoming marriage, Your Grace." Mellario says causing Rhaella to visibly shudder.

"I would rather not." Rhaella replies as she tries to make her escape, only stopping when Mellario lays her hand on her own.

"Oberyn is not such a bad man Rhaella. Your situation is a harsh one, and I regret that you're in it, but there are worse men than Oberyn. Catch his heart and he'll love you fiercely, and even if you don't love him, he does have four rather adorable daughters you can love instead." Mellario spoke, her voice falsely cheery as she tried to convince Rhaella to see the best of her situation.

"Until Daenerys I never had a daughter. Perhaps it would be sweet to have many of them." Rhaella replies weakly, hoping that her falsely positive response will allow her to finally leave.

At that Mellario chuckles, the kindness back in her eyes. "Girls are hard work, Your Grace. My Arianne is a trial and a half." Mellario and then grows deathly serious for a moment. "When we next see each other we'll have to plan your wedding. I'm sorry." 

Mellario, after such a curious exchange, practically jumps out of the alcove. She barely mumbles a proper goodbye before she's gone, her heels clicking and clacking on the castle's stone floor.

Rhaella is too emotionally exhausted to comprehend such an exchange, in truth, yet she hopes that she might have found an ally in Doran's wife. Having someone by her side in Dorne, to protect her from her future husband and his brother's plots, would truly secure her place in Dorne.

After her meeting with Mellario and the confirmation of her betrothal with Oberyn her days seemed to blur. Unwillingly, she spent most of her days with Mellario and Doran nodding her head to whatever they wanted. She couldn't care less about the color scheme of the wedding or what lords would be attending. She did care though that the wedding was being public.

"Robert will know we're here." Rhaella hissed at Doran on the fourth day of their planning when he revealed there would be many lords and ladies in attendance.

"By the time he could make it to Dorne or send his armies you will be cloaked and under Dorne's protection." Doran had replied with ease, ceasing any argument she could of made.

The wedding planning only ceased the day before the wedding itself, and Rhaella was quite sure it only ceased because there was no time to add anything else. She also suspected it ceased because she, unknowingly, had agreed to Oberyn's proposal that his family and hers go to the Water Gardens ahead of everyone else to give their families a chance to get used to each other.

So, that was how Rhaella found herself seated in a litter, her little daughter hooked to her hip, with Oberyn Martell sitting dangerously close to her, his own youngest on his lap. 

Oberyn had decided that it would be best if his three eldest and Viserys have their own litter to give them time to "bond", and seeing as Ser Willem had to stay with his king, she had no protection from him here. Not that she thought Oberyn looked like he would try anything. In fact, he looked like he wanted to be anywhere else but here, as he seemed to be purposefully avoiding Rhaella's gaze. It didn't matter if Oberyn was avoiding her though, because his little daughter, Sarella, was intent on getting her attention.

Sarella Sand and her sisters, infamously known as the Sand Snakes, were introduced to Rhaella the day of Oberyn and Rhaella's betrothal. Upon meeting the girls, she couldn't understand their infamy as they all seemed to be normal girls to her.

Obara, the eldest, seemed to be Oberyn reborn again as a young girl. Though only Viserys's age, the young girl seemed to have already mastered spear fighting, something Rhaella noticed when Viserys tore her away from wedding planning to watch him spar in the yard. The girl wasn't exactly pretty but she was strong, and when she knocked Viserys on his backside in the yard, she was kind enough to pick him up and show him how she had done it. That was enough for Rhaella.

Oberyn's second daughter, Nymeria, had only seen five namedays and Rhaella was quite sure she hadn't ever seen a little girl who was already such a little lady so young. Nymeria was a beautiful little girl with silky black hair held back in a tiny braid. Upon meeting, Nymeria had offered Rhaella a little fistful of wildflowers saying that she was very excited to meet her "New lady mother."

Yet if Nymeria was beautiful and innocent, Oberyn's second youngest daughter was tenfold so. Tyene Sand was the only one of her sisters who didn't have their father's rich dark brown eyes, and at two she already looked the picture of one the angels of the seven heavens. Crowned in beautiful, golden blond hair that was pinned down in a braid even smaller than her sister's, if that was possible, and dressed in white Rhaella thought the little girl looked a vision. Tyene had been too nervous to approach her though, as she had hid behind her father's leg the whole meeting, so Rhaella couldn't say if the little girl was truly as innocent as she appeared.

Lastly, but not leastly, was little Sarella. Sarella was babbling quite loudly right now, her rich, dark, brown eyes trained on her and Daenerys. It was too early to tell if the girl would grow to be as beautiful as her sisters, yet she was a pretty baby nonetheless. Sarella looked as much like Oberyn as Tyene did with her dark skin and untamable dark curls, still Rhaella supposed she had his viper eyes. It was something all the girls seemed to share, despite their varying eye colors and mothers.

"Your Grace?" Oberyn said abruptly, breaking her out of her own thoughts. "Did you hear what I said?"

"No, My Prince. My thoughts were elsewhere." Rhaella responded, praying she hadn't upset Oberyn. She could not trust a man after the likes of Aerys, especially a man like Oberyn.

"I said, our daughters seem to have taken a liking to each other." Oberyn said, his Dornish accent heavy even with his voice light. 

Oberyn was right. Sarella seemed to be poking Daenerys on the arm, causing Daenerys to giggle rigorously, which in turn caused Sarella a fit of laughter. How or why such a thing caused Daenerys laughter in the first place was beyond Rhaella, yet it was a sweet sight to see the girls giggling together.

"I'm not sure what's so funny about what they're doing, but it's sweet to see them both laugh." Rhaella said with a smile, each word carefully thought out. If growing up at court had taught her anything, it was that words were weapons of their own, when used right.

In response, her soon to be husband laughed. "May I call you Rhaella, Your Grace?" Oberyn asked. 

"I suppose. If I can call you Oberyn." Rhaella spoke, suspicion growing.

"I suppose that's only fair isn't it? Well Rhaella, can I call a truce between us?" Oberyn asked, his voice remaining its lightness from before.

"A truce?" She questioned, his own warning to her ringing clear in her ears.

"Yes, a truce. I mean it is obvious that neither of us wants to be in this situation but we both have little choice. We might as well try and make a little happiness, for them at least." Oberyn's glance flickering down to their giggling daughters. "Us together will be all the know, after all."

"A truce then." She nodded, biting back her suspicions. Peace would be so so sweet, yet it wouldn't be true, Rhaella couldn't even be that delusional.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's a tenative chapter for you guys until I can upload tomorrow's! It's more of a filler chapter as I haven't had a chance to finish chapter six (technically the second part of this, since it was supposed to be one really long chapter) as I have concussion from soccer. Remember to leave a kudos and a comment if you enjoyed, and thanks for reading!


	6. Wedding Day

"To celebrate our new truce, I can show you and your children the Water Gardens." Oberyn said, his voice sounding something like excitement. 

Oberyn and his daughters was impatient to show off their infamous gardens to their newest family additions, which surprised Rhaella almost as much as it annoyed her. The girls' excitement was to be expected, especially since they and Viserys seemed to have befriended one another during the ride, but Oberyn's was almost obnoxious in it's apparent sincerity.

"I will not let the servants do everything! We can at least put our clothes away and help make sure everyone gets settled." Rhaella had replied when Oberyn had appeared at her door with his two youngest, suggesting they go see the gardens now.

"Rhaella, do you not have any sense of adventure? Any curiosity?" Oberyn asked with a smirk. She could tell he was purposely being obnoxious.

She threw her hands in the air in absolute frustration. Death loomed over her and her children every second, and even now they weren't truly safe, yet he expected them to go enjoy themselves at a glorified pond!

"Fine." She said in defeat.

Oberyn collected his remaining children, while Rhaella managed to collect her's from Ser Willem and together they headed to the Water Gardens.

Rhaella was so frustrated and preoccupied that she hadn't even noticed that they had arrived in the gardens in truth. It took Viserys coming to a complete stop, for Rhaella to actually look up and realize where they were.

Rhaella had heard about the Water Gardens as a girl. She had always loved that King Daeron made peace in his realm through marriage and love rather than war. She had also thought it was rather romantic that Mors Martell built another castle, basically, just to please a woman who wasn't even his wife yet. Given the Targaryen past here Rhaella had always wanted to visit, especially since Loreza Martell was one of her dearest friend and she had absolutely loved the Water Gardens, yet she never had. Seeing it now, took her breath away while also giving her a sense of peace she hadn't had since long ago, before Aerys and before Summerhall, when Targaryens still ruled Westeros.

The golden sun of noon shone high in the sky, reflecting onto the aqua blue of the pool as a color of molten gold. Naked children of all origins and races raced in and out of the pool, speaking too many tongues for Rhaella to discern what any of them were truly saying. The only thing Rhaella could truly discern was the happiness. The children radiated it. Even the parents seemed to radiate joy as they simply watched their children paddle in the water. Some of the parents even had babes they were periodically dipping in the pool as they watched their older children. It was so peaceful, so happy. Rhaella couldn't ever remember a time in her life where she had ever been so innocent or seen such innocence before. Even among the shrubbery, by the marble castle walls, the children played joyfully, whooping and hollering as they found their friends behind branches or managed to throw a twig over the castle wall.

"Amazing, isn't it?" Oberyn asked, his voice barely concealing his held back laughter. 

"It's... It's magnificent. Absolutely magnificent." Rhaella replied, her voice childlike in it's wonder. There was something wrong though, something she just couldn't place...

"Where's Viserys?" She asked abruptly, surprising Oberyn, who had been busy laughing at her.

"With the girls I'm sure. They dashed away as soon as Viserys managed to absorb in the sight that is the Water Gardens." Oberyn said reassuringly.

"He's a king though..." She trailed off nervously as she tried to find her son in the crowd of children. 

"And these are servants' children. He has nothing to fear from them." Oberyn explained lightly as he led her to the pool. 

"Are you sure?" She asked suspiciously, scanning the crowd for any would be assassins, as if she'd be able to see them.

"Positive. Now come join me." Oberyn commanded lightly as he climbed into the pool with Sarella on his hip.

"I couldn't... I mean my dress... And if Daenerys slipped...." She said, stuttering out excuses. Her dress was cut in the Dornish style, a gift from Elia, and a light gold. Nothing extravagant, yet she didn't want to ruin it. Meanwhile, Oberyn wore cut up pants that barely came down to his knees and nothing else.

"The water won't ruin your dress. I would know. I pushed my sister into the water myself many a time and every time her dress was fine afterwards. Also, will you drop Dany?" Oberyn spoke, a laugh coloring his face, though it fell at the mention of his sister

"I won't drop Dany." She said simply as she climbed in the water, trying herself not to dwell on the good-daughter she lost.

The heat of Dorne had been stuck to her since they had gotten near Dorne on the smugglers ship that had saved their lives, yet in the pools of the Water Gardens the cloying, sandy heat was finally forgotten.

"This feels amazing!" She called out to Oberyn as he dragged little Sarella in a circle about the water. In response he just laughed.

They spent their whole day in the pool, only getting out to grab a overripe blood orange from the trees hanging above every once in awhile. For the first time in a long time Rhaella laughed. She laughed at Viserys, whom had Obara on his shoulders, as he and her soon to be step-daughter conquered the pool from the other children. She laughed again when she saw little Nymeria and baby Tyene, barely able to walk on land, yet diving and chasing after each other in water. She also managed a giggle at Daenerys and Sarella's astounded faces each time they touched the water, as if they were always surprised it was there. It was all so peaceful, so happy. If this is what marriage to Oberyn Martell was like, if this is what her future was to be, then perhaps it wouldn't be quite so horrible after all. 

Night came faster than she would've liked. Every time she managed to fall asleep that night she was woken up by the same terrible nightmare. 

She dreamt of two dragons and two children burning for them to be born. Oh their screams in the flames were so terrible! The children, two boys, screamed and screamed until they eventually were reborn as two dragons, a white and red one. It was only the last time she managed to fall asleep that she saw the dragons were going to war.

Much like on the day she was betrothed, Rhaella hadn't gotten any sleep. The wedding wouldn't be for many hours still, as she had woken at dawn, yet she was unwilling to face her dreams any longer. Making sure Daeneys and Viserys slept still, Rhaella slipped away to the only place she knew how to get to, the Water Gardens.

The Water Gardens were quiet in the early morning dawn, and Rhaella was quite sure she wouldn't be disturbed here for quite awhile. The pale morning sun casted the gardens in golden light, and Rhaella couldn't help but to think.

Sometimes Rhaella found herself missing her mother and father, even though they were the reason for her marriage to Aerys. She missed her mother's reassuring smiles and her father calling her his little princess. She often wondered what she'd say to them if they were here now. Would she be angry with her parents for not giving her a choice in life? Would she be sad that they weren't given a chance to meet her Rhaegar? What would they be like? Would they approve of the lengths she had gone to to preserve their house? Rhaella had too many questions and not enough answers, and that hurt for a reason she couldn't quite place.

"Rhaella? Your Grace? What are you doing out here?" Oberyn's somewhat familiar voice surprising her enough to break her out of her own head.

"I..." Her voice trailed off unwillingly. She had not expected to be found here. "I couldn't sleep." 

Oberyn relaxed at her admission of sleeplessness. With his messy dark hair and the dark circles under his soft, brown eyes, Rhaella guessed the same was true of himself. 

"May I?" Oberyn asked as he made his way to her. Rhaella couldn't help dipping her feet underwater for a bit, and while being lost in her thoughts she had forgotten about the water entirely. 

"Of course." She found herself saying though she wanted him to do anything but. In response Oberyn plopped himself next to her, careful not to be too close, and submerged his own feet underwater. 

"Y'know when I was a boy, Elia and I would wake up every morning just to watch the sunrise. It was our tradition. We'd gather a handful of blood oranges off the trees and we'd sit at the edge of the pool, watching as the darkness around us disappeared. Even if Elia was sick, she'd insist that we'd watch it in her room then, as her room had a nice little balcony that mine didn't. I'd have to get up extra early on those days, since I'd have to climb the trees myself and gather the oranges." Oberyn spoke, his tone quiet and full of grief. Rhaella watched as tears unwillingly rolled down Oberyn's cheeks, Oberyn too focused on the rising sun to care.

"What happened when she went to King's Landing?" Rhaella asked timidly, her own voice choked by her own grief, as well as her fear of upsetting Oberyn further.

"I'd sit here alone, writing her letters. Every morning I'd write a letter to her describing the sunrise as vividly as possible. Despite this though, none of the words ever seemed to fit. I'd spend hours on those letters. When I was sent to Oldtown most assumed it was a punishment, and maybe it was, yet I saw it as a way to show Elia all the sunrises I hadn't described right. I never got the chance though. I never got the chance and Elia died and I'm still looking at the damn sunrise!" Oberyn was sobbing now, his sentences broken by his tears, and Rhaella hadn't the slightest idea of how to comfort him so she began talking. It seemed like the only thing to do after all.

"Aerys wasn't always mad y'know? Growing up he wasn't. Aerys was just my sweet, baby brother who had a heart too big for his head and who tried too hard to be like Tywin Lannister. When we were little I used to sneak him away from his lessons and we'd go swimming in Blackwater Bay. I remember one time in particular, Aerys was four and I was six, and I dared him to jump off the cliff overlooking the bay. Obviously he wouldn't do it, but surprisingly he said he would do it if I did it with him. His lilac eyes had been so wide then. I can still hear him, begging me to come with him, to protect him. He had been shaking with fear of actually jumping and even though I didn't want to jump myself, I knew I had to. We jumped together, our hands locked together. I can still remember the shock written on his face once we finally came up from the water. I don't think we could catch our breath and do it again for awhile since we were laughing so hard from the pure joy of it all. I can't count how many times we snuck away and did it again. We stopped after Tywin and Steffon arrived, but he still wasn't mad then either. He was just a boy and I was his stupid big sister. Even when we first were married he wasn't so bad, we even mourned our parents and celebrated our first son together, and yet by the time he went mad..." Rhaella found herself trailing off, her voice thick with tears. It was only Oberyn's curious, bloodshot eyes that kept her going. "I once loved that boy y'know? I loved him as my baby brother. I had loved him since the moment my mother placed him into my arms, and even more when my father told me that I had to protect him. But how could say I love the man he became? How can I mourn that man?"

Rhaella sobbed then, harder than she had in awhile. She did not trust Oberyn Martell, yet in this moment she could not hold her grief in anymore. She did mourn Aerys, as much as she hadn't want to admit it. She mourned her sweet, kind little brother. How many years had she mourned that boy though in truth? She mourned so many as well. It was all too much. She tried to be strong, to be the dragon she knew she was, yet sometimes she found herself only being one woman after all.

Somehow in her tears Rhaella finds herself entangling herself with Oberyn Martell. It is only when her tears finally begin to slow does she realize what she's done.

"I am so sorry." She says with a start as she jerks her head away from Oberyn's strong shoulder.

"Do not apologize." Oberyn replied softly as he got up. "I think I needed to talk to someone. I think I might've gone mad if I didn't." 

She nods her understanding, as she's quite sure she felt the same, yet it doesn't make it any less humiliating that she cried on Oberyn Martell's shoulder. She's almost too humiliated to speak, yet after Oberyn's help she knows she must.

"Thank you for listening. It was good to get some of those things off my chest." Rhaella speaks, a blush coloring her cheeks. "I would talk further but I think you and I both have a wedding to get ready for." 

"Aye. I suppose we do." Oberyn replies, his voice back to it's usual light tone. "Until tonight." 

"Until tonight." Rhaella replies back, leaving hurriedly before Oberyn can speak more. 

Rhaella is pleasantly surprised to find Mellario of Norvos in her rooms when she returns, already dressed for the wedding in a gorgeous gown of plum cut in the Dornish style. She had half expected Prince Doran to not allow her to attend, so to find her there was an odd yet slight comfort.

"Your Grace! I had thought you were lost to us for a moment there. You disappeared for so long." Mellario exclaims as she wraps her in a hurried hug. "I've been dressing the children in your absence."

Obara stood tall and proud in House Martell's background colors of burnt orange and black. Instead of being crammed into a dress, which Rhaella even knew she would detest, she was dressed in the same doublet style Viserys would be wearing. The crest of four snakes, of a multitude of colors, wrapped around a bloody, black spear was was sewn unto the cloak she'd be wearing, very large and very proud. Overall, Obara looked nice in her simple cloak and doublet, and in truth that's all Rhaella really wanted.

The only other children in the room dressed for the wedding was Mellario's children. Arianne Martell was somewhere between Nymeria and Obara's age, yet she seemed to have a certain confidence that most girls her age did not. Already, Arianne commanded the rooms attention with her boisterous, charming personality. It also helped that her smile seemed to shine from watching her baby brother, Quentyn, who was wearing the same burnt orange of his sister, repeatedly taking off his golden circlet

"Would you like to help me Your Grace?" Mellario asked as she tried to shift Sarella and her own babe, Quentyn on her hip.

"Of course."

Viserys was dressed next in the classic Targaryen black and red. With Mellario's help, Rhaella managed to get her boy into a black doublet slashed in blood red, simple black pants, a cloak with the Targaryen insignia printed clearly and largely on the back, and lastly Aegon III's crown. Viserys looked extremely uncomfortable, and Rhaella couldn't help but to feel for her son. This wedding would not only reveal their location, but would be the first time her son would meet his people as a king and not just a simple prince. This was a monumental occasion for him, one worth celebrating, yet Rhaella could only feel fear and anxiety.

After all the eldest were dressed from their respective families, Mellario and her each get one of the middle Sand Snakes. Mellario dresses Nymeria in a gown that's seemed to be a dark red-violet color, a color that seemed to be a good compliment to the young lady's eyes, and ties back her soft black hair into a small bun. Meanwhile, Rhaella dressed Tyene in a gown of white and tied most of her golden curls back, only leaving out a few curls to frame the girl's pretty face. As soon as each of the woman finished they sent the children out to Viserys and Obara, whom apparently were trying to keep the small girls in order.

The last of the children that needed dressed were the babes, and of course they were the hardest. Sarella, in her gown of gold, kept drooling all over her dress, ruining the dress's shine. Meanwhile, Daenerys, whom was dressed in a scarlet and black dress with the Targaryen dragon present on the dress's skirt, kept trying to take her dress off, almost ripping it. After fixing all these things hundreds of times, Mellario and Rhaella finally gave up and shoved them into their older siblings hands with the promise that they'd be right back.

"Now it's your turn." Mellario said, flashing Rhaella a tired grin. 

Rhaella allowed Mellario to pin her silver-gold curls up, help her slip into her dress red and black, and even allowed her to pin her Targaryen cloak, the same one Aerys had pinned over her own years earlier, into place. Yet, when the time came for Rhaella to slip her crown on and leave, Rhaella wanted to be alone. 

All her life she'd been a Targaryen. Once, when her house was in power, that was an honor, a privilege. She was privileged to be born a princess, the granddaughter of a king. Being a Targaryen, being dutiful Rhaella Targaryen, was all she'd ever known. Yet now, she was being stripped of all she'd ever been, even her name, to continue House Targaryen. Today she'd become Rhaella Nymeros Martell in front of gods and men, all for her children, all for House Targaryen. With one last glance at the mirror and the placing of her crown on her head, Rhaella Targaryen died and Rhaella Martell was born.

Viserys looked small dressed in all black, and hollow, too much like Aerys for comfort. He only seemed to shrink further when he saw Rhaella approaching.

"Mother." Viserys said shakily as he offered her his arm, his other arm barely being able to hold his little slip of a sister. 

"You must be strong my son, strong like your brother." Rhaella whispers quietly as they make there way to the wedding. There was fear in Viserys's lilac eyes as he nodded, as she asked the impossible of him, and Rhaella wished she could take it away from him. It was unfair of her to request him to be like Rhaegar, she knew that, yet there was no other Targaryen recently that she could ask him to be like. All the rest were weak or mad.

The walk to the Water Gardens was quiet, only Daenerys's babbling truly interrupted the sad silence surrounding her family. Somehow though, actually arriving at the wedding was worse.

Many Dornish lords and ladies were starring intently at her, their gazes seeming to suffocate Rhaella. Their gawking and their silence as they watch the last of House Targaryen seal their fate is overwhelming. It's too much. Their eyes are like a court of long ago, the ones who watched her brother put her current cloak on her shoulders in the Sept of Baelor. It's too much too soon. She wants to weep, to be ill, anything, to get this monstrous feeling out of her chest, her soul. 

"Mother?" Viserys whispers, his voice sounding far away to Rhaella's ears. It's close enough to bring Rhaella back from her daze though, enough to remind her that Aerys and Father and everyone in that dreaded court is dead or gone. Only she remains, the sole survivor of another time, and she is far away from King's Landing now. 

When Viserys stops abruptly, Rhaella's scared. Oberyn Martell looms only a few steps away, Obara at his side, and though a kind smile paints his face Rhaella is scared. Her feet will not move, though her heart beats as if it's about to break through her chest. She tries to look away, to find a way to escape but there is none. Tyene blocks one of the only paths she could take, as she's at Obara's side, yet Rhaella cannot help but think. In only a second, Viserys will nod to Oberyn and the deal will be done. There's a gap by Nymeria, where Viserys will stand, but it's too small. Before Rhaella can try anything though Viserys slides into his place, Daenerys in his arms. The deal is done.

With a few slow, stiff steps she is eye to eye with Oberyn Martell. He's cloaked head to toe in the same burnt orange of his daughter, as well as the deep crimson of the sun of his house sigil. 

"You may now cloak the bride and bring her under your protection." The septon's voice is soft and far away in Rhaella's ears. All she can focus on is Oberyn's soft touch as he strips her of the Targaryen cloak Aerys placed on her shoulders long ago. It falls into a puddle at her feet and it's gone before she can mourn it in truth, replaced by Oberyn's own Martell cloak.

"My lords, my ladies, we stand here in the sight of gods and men to witness the union of man and wife. One flesh, one heart, one soul, now and forever." The septon now states, his voice still distant. She's vaguely aware of Oberyn taking her hand in his. All she can focus on is the sun, close to setting.

The septon's tying a knot around their hands now, Rhaella knows it, yet her heart is hammering and the sun is the only brightness in this darkness. She can't focus on his words. He's droning on and on. 

"Let it be known that Rhaella, Queen of the Seven Kingdoms and Lady of House Targaryen, and Oberyn Nymeros Martell, Prince of Dorne and member of House Nymeros Martell, are one heart, one flesh, one soul. Cursed be he who would seek to tear them asunder." The septon proclaims, and Rhaella wants to rage. What if she wants to 'tear them asunder' as he so eloquently put it? Would she be cursed? Or would the gods understand that she's tired of being a pawn? "In the sight of the Seven, I hereby seal these two souls, binding them as one for eternity." 

They are unbound to each other now but now they must speak, pledge their love to each other, as if they truly mean it. "Look upon each other and say these words." The septon commands, and at this part Rhaella is prepared. 

When she was young and was saying these words, her voice had been hollow from crying all morning. Now her voice is thick in unshed tears. 

"Father, Smith, Warrior, Mother, Maiden, Crone, Stranger. I am his and he is mine. From this day, until the end of my days." She says, her voice and Oberyn's mixing together. Her part in this is done now, at least that's a relief.

"With this kiss, I pledge my love." Oberyn finally announces as they finish their vows, his kind smile still painted on his lips.

Oberyn and her's kiss is light and short, yet Oberyn still manages to give it emotion. It's a kind kiss, not overbearing or humiliating, and Rhaella's thankful for that. It's with their small embrace that the worst of it is finally over. The people are finally clapping and Rhaella's glad it's done, until...

Everyone hears the incoming storm. It comes in the form of clanking armor and heavy footfalls, as well as ragged breath and tears. When the gates of the Water Gardens smash open, Rhaella's faze is broken. Her eyes and mind are sharp by the time the knight breaks open the gate, sharp enough to recognize the knight.

"Ser Arthur..." She gasps, shocked by the sight of him. 

Ser Arthur runs with a woman in his arms, dark haired and crying with a blood soaked dress, in white armor turned red with blood. By the time they make it to the wedding aisle, everyone recognizes the knight as well as the girl.

"Lyanna Stark..." Oberyn breathes, his own shock written clearly on his face.

The wolf maiden that started the war wears a crown of dead winter roses upon her head, and would appear dead if she wasn't crying so much. Her light blue dress is practically red in the amount of blood it had on it, and Rhaella can't fail to note the young girl's stomach is swollen.

Ser Arthur's violet eyes are brimming with tears, yet he laughs when he finally comes to a stop. "We heard there was a wedding. Hope we didn't drop by too late."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Sorry that this was updated one day behind schedule! My head was really just killing me today. Anyways I hope this chapter will be enough to earn your forgiveness. It's a bit longer than the rest of the chapters but I figured you guys would appreciate something like that. I got really into writing Rhaella this chapter so I kind of went off the deep end with descriptions and things. Tell me what you think about the chapter lengths, my writing of Rhaella, or anything you'd like to talk about in the comments below! I greatly appreciate you reading this story! If you enjoyed please leave a kudos and a comment telling me your thoughts. I love hearing from you guys.


	7. The Birth of a Dragon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rhaella and Oberyn learn the truth behind Lyanna's disappearance while Lyanna goes into labor.

The wedding was in chaos. No one seemed quite sure what to do with the newest guests. The crowd was in a daze, their reactions ranged from complete silence and shock to angry shouts and screams. No one seemed sure how to proceed either, with Oberyn and Doran appearing like the former part of the crowd, in utter shock. It was only when Rhaella decided to take the lead did everyone finally settle down.

"My dearest wedding guest! My new husband and I would ask if you will all make your way to the feast in the main hall, while we manage to get our newest guest settled." Rhaella spoke, trying to sound as reassuring and commanding as possible in such an abrupt circumstance. "Once everything is settled, we'll arrive and fill you all in. If you will follow my son, the king, and my new good-brother and his family, they will lead you all to the main hall." 

Doran Martell seemed to snap out of his stupor with her command, as he rose to his feet immediately and began to usher Viserys and Obara ahead. With Oberyn and her's family safely ahead, Doran began to lead a mass exodus of people out of the golden Water Gardens. His voice was muffled, yet Rhaella had no doubt he was trying to direct the people's train of thought away from what had just occurred.

"What do you need me to do?" Oberyn asked, his voice snapping her to attention.

"Get the maester. Take him to my room. We'll be there." Rhaella commanded, her mind going frantic as she looked to Ser Arthur and his blood soaked armor. What could of caused such a bloody mess?

In response Oberyn nodded, letting Rhaella have her leave to drag Ser Arthur and Lady Lyanna to her room. She would've sprinted down the corridors if only Ser Arthur could keep up.

"Sorry to show up like this, Your Grace. I know you must have a lot of questions." Ser Arthur spoke, his voice on the edge of being sarcastic, as he was dragged through the halls of the Water Gardens by Rhaella.

"Of course I have many questions! Why are you covered in blood? What happened to you two? Where the hell were you when the battle of the trident occurred? Where were you when King's Landing fell?!" Rhaella snarled, her voice strained as they finally arrived to her room. 

Ser Arthur at least had the shame to bow his head in guilt as he gently laid Lyanna on Rhaella's featherbed. "I... I didn't.. To make it make sense to you I have to start at the beginning, and even then it might not make sense." 

"Well then you better explain fast." She said, exasperated. Rhaella was too tired to hear Ser Arthur's excuses, and too focused on Lady Lyanna to care about whatever explanation he might make up for why he didn't save Elia and her children. The girl seemed to be bleeding.

"It all began with the tourney of Harrenhal. Your husband, Aerys, demanded Rhaegar to find out the identity of the mystery knight, the knight of the laughing tree." Ser Arthur began, only to be cut off by Rhaella.

"Rhaegar didn't find anything." She growled as she tried to help Lyanna to sit up. She was obviously in labor.

"But he did. He found her, the lady, Lyanna. She was the mystery knight. Rhaegar kept her secret because he seemed to think she was going to be his Visenya, or at least provide his Visenya. He thought she was the last piece in his beloved prophecy." Ser Arthur responded, his voice thick with grief for his beloved prince.

"Bran.. Father.. Please... I'm sorry.. I'm so sorry..." Lyanna cut in, her tears falling fast as Rhaella tried to help her. Luckily it was in that moment that Oberyn arrived with the maester.

Maester Alric, an old Reachman who had apparently assisted in the births of Doran, Elia, and Oberyn himself, wasted no time in shooing all Ser Arthur, Oberyn, and Rhaella out of the room. Despite this though, Rhaella could still hear his muttering about how much blood had already colored Rhaella's sheets.

"So, what the hell is going on?!" Oberyn demanded, his dark eyes flickering between Ser Arthur, Rhaella, and the door concealing Lyanna Stark, though not her cries of pain.

"Ser Arthur." Rhaella said coldly, nodding at the knight to fill her husband in on her son's folly.

"At the tourney of Harrenhal, Rhaefar found the mystery knight to be Lyanna but kept her identity secret because he was intrigued by her and thought she could lead to the last part of his prophecy. You both know what happened afterwards." Ser Arthur explained once more.

"He crowned the girl over my sister, his wife." Oberyn practically hissed while Arthur nodded.

"Exactly." Arthur responded before continuing. "I'm not quite sure why he did it. He never spoke of the tourney again after that, not even to me. Well, not until a year later. Rhaegar woke me up in the middle of the night a few days after Aegon's birth with only one word. Lyanna."

"So you helped him kidnap her?" Oberyn accused, his voice dangerously low.

"I... No! Rhaegar.. He must've been writing to her in secret or something because when we found her in the Riverlands she seemed to be expecting us almost. She wasn't surprised by our arrival at her camp that's for sure." Ser Arthur explained, his voice seeming to be dripping with shame.

"Who was we?" Oberyn asked, almost simultaneously with Rhaella.

"Other members of the Kingsguard, knights who were sworn more to Rhaegar than Aerys. It was myself, Ser Oswell Whent, and others. Your uncle Lewyn was there, my prince, and a few of Rhaegar's companions as well. Lyanna came with us without a struggle." Ser Arthur answered, his head bowed as if he couldn't quite meet either of their eyes.

Rhaella could sense Oberyn's fierce grief and anger at his meager answer, and decided to intervene before Oberyn had a chance to punch the famed knight.

"So.. What happened after you all took Lyanna? Where did Rhaegar hide her?" Rhaella asked quickly, as she set her hand on Oberyn's shoulder, hopefully giving him the hint to calm down.

Ser Arthur's violet eyes were flat in a way Rhaella had never seen before when he finally answered. "We took her to the Tower of Joy, not too far away, due to my suggestion. She.. She just wanted to escape her betrothal, Your Grace, and apparently Rhaegar has promised he'd help her if she'd help him first. He trapped her in there, Your Grace, and made myself and the rest of the Kingsguard her jailers." 

"What was it that Rhaegar wanted then?" Oberyn asked, his voice barely concealing his held back anger, while Ser Arthur continued to stare up at them dully. Rhaella, on the other hand, didn't need to ask. She knew what her son had done.

"His Visenya... He needed a Visenya." Rhaella answered, her voice cracking from the tears that were rising up into her throat.

"What do you mean?" Oberyn spit, his anger no longer concealed. He practically roared the question at her and Ser Arthur. 

"Rhaegar... Oh my sweet boy... He had been obsessed with a prophecy told to my Father by a woods witch says he was old enough to read. It told of the Prince that was promised, a child born of mine and Aerys's union, that would apparently save the world." Rhaella paused, her voice almost too constricted by tears to continue. "Growing up he always thought it was him, yet as he grew older he seemed to think it would be his future son. The prophecy apparently spoke of needing three heads of the dragon and my sweet, lonely boy never had any siblings until Viserys. So when he married Elia and had Rhaenys and Aegon, he was sure the prophecy was almost complete, until the maester told him Elia could have no more children. He must've looked to Lyanna to provide him his Visenya after that."

"So Elia and her children died, all because Rhaegar heard that a woods' witch said how many fucking years before he was born that the world would end if there wasn't three Targaryens in the world?" Oberyn snapped, his fist smashing into the castle stone. 

Rhaella couldn't help but to sob after Oberyn's outburst. How could her sweet baby boy do such a thing? How could he risk his family for such foolish things? Was it possible that Rhaegar, her sweet little boy whom at four would try to protect his mother from his father, was just as mad as the Father he so hated? What else could explain how her cautious, smart son could act such a way?

"I... That's always what he told us. He... Lyanna fell pregnant shortly after we arrived in the tower. After that, Rhaegar wouldn't even let her leave bed for long, let alone leave. She begged and pleaded to leave, to stop the war, but it was just... When we were notified of Lord Brandon and Lord Rickard's deaths, he left for a bit but he made us stay with her. She tried to escape, many times, but eventually she just stopped caring. I... He came back and he was almost trancelike. Lyanna begged and screamed but it was like he couldn't see, Your Grace. I and the other knights tried to make him understand his foolishness, but he wouldn't listen! He wouldn't even let us go fight with him or protect Elia and his legitimate children! I mean when we finally heard of Rhaegar's fall, no one was sure what to do. Rhaegar's orders were to stay there until she gave birth, and Ser Oswell Whent and Ser Gerold Hightower seemed to agree, but I didn't." Ser Arthur spoke up, his words rushing out of his mouth like a waterfall.

"What do you mean you didn't agree?" Oberyn asked through gritted teeth.

"I meant that I didn't agree, Oberyn. Lyanna, she's barely a woman grown, a child in truth. She's too young, too small. She would've died at the Tower of Joy if I didn't bring her here, to a proper maester, and she still might die anyways." Arthur replied flatly, his voice sounding odd, almost as if hiding something.

"Where's Ser Oswell and Ser Gerold, Ser Arthur?" Rhaella asked, her tears slowing for a moment as she catches the variation in Ser Arthur's voice. 

Ser Arthur doesn't even blink at her question, instead he stares ahead blankly. "I'm not sure, Your Grace." Ser Arthur says flatly, though despite his lack of emotion there are tears in his eyes.

"Arthur.. Did you? Did you do something... regrettable?" Oberyn asks softly, for once his voice not sounding angry or harsh.

"I did what I had to do. They wouldn't... They wouldn't let us leave. They were intent on us staying and I... She was going to die and the babe would die and I couldn't let Elia and all the rest die for nothing! I couldn't!" Ser Arthur finally sobs, his tears falling down his cheeks onto his blood-soaked armor. "I had to fight them on our way out... I left a note there for Lord Eddard to receive so he'd know that Lyanna was safe, and if they weren't going to help me then I was going to let them guard it at least. But... They were intent on having us stay, Your Grace! I didn't mean to do anything I swear it! I just... I couldn't break my vow to Rhaegar." 

Neither Rhaella or Oberyn knew how to respond to Ser Arthur's sudden admission. To kill your brothers in arms, was a terrible sin, and one Rhaella didn't know how to respond to. Execution was the only logical response to such an action, yet Rhaella could not do such a thing to the man who brought her the last remainder of Rhaegar that remains in this world. Though Rhaella wasn't even sure Ser Arthur had killed the other two famed knights, either which was a problem all on its own.

"Oberyn, will you lead Ser Arthur to the wedding? He will have a place at our table for as long as he needs. Perhaps even his brother is attending and there will be space for him there?" Rhaella spoke carefully, practically commanding Oberyn to lead Ser Arthur away. 

"Wait, but what about Lyanna? And-" Ser Arthur managed to choke out between his tears, only to be cut off by Oberyn.

"Worry not. The queen shall watch over Lyanna." Oberyn assured the broken man as he led him toward the feast. 

The first thing Rhaella noticed when she entered the newly made birth chamber was the stench. It was overwhelming in all senses of the word. It smelled sharply of the dead roses Rhaegar had once given the girl and worst of all, death. Despite the deceiving stench though, the girl was very much alive, obvious in her cries of pain.

"Your Grace? What are you doing here?" Maester Alric demanded as he worked tirelessly. 

"I came to assist you." Rhaella answered quietly, as she tried not to get in the maester's way.

"Well. I don't exactly have anything for you to do, but the gods know the lady could use the comfort." The maester answered with a sad sigh, while Rhaella took her place at Lyanna's side.

Lyanna's need for comfort was obvious, as she sobbed, begging the gods for her remaining brothers. "Ned.. Ben... Please. I don't want to die without them. Please.." Rhaella tried to take the girl's hand, as if it would help.

She spent a couple of hours in that position, trying to offer comfort to a girl she hardly knew, in an effort to partially right the wrongs her son had created. Every contraction, every tear, made Rhaella wince, her mind wondering to her own past pregnancies and births, yet she stayed by the girl's side anyways. Rhaegar was dead, yet consequences still remained of his past actions, and Rhaella was no stranger to paying for others' actions. By the time the babe finally arrived, Rhaella thought she was going to go insane. The pain and death surrounding her, along with the ghost of her son was all too much. It was anyways, until Rhaella heard that tiny cry, and her heart soared.

"A boy!" The maester announced to no one in the room particular, causing Rhaella's heart to drop. A boy. A grandson. A king.

Lyanna Stark it seemed was a tragedy, no matter who was telling the story, and by the time the babe's cries joined the girls own Rhaella could tell the girl was dying. Yet dying or not, it seemed that at the maester's announcement Lyanna finally found the will to live.

"A boy? Can I hold him?" Lyanna asked her, acknowledging Rhaella's presence for the first time since her arrival.

"Of course." Rhaella responded, as the maester placed her grandson in her arms. 

Rhaella only had a moment to hold Rhaegar's last child, Rhaella wished she could've held him for as long as she lived. Rhaegar's last little boy had a tuft of dark hair, dark and wild like his mother's yet everything else about him was Rhaegar's, especially his small smile. He was small like Rhaegar had been as well, and Rhaella didn't know whether to weep or smile over her new grandchild as she passed him along to his mother.

Lyanna Stark had only cried since her arrival in the Water Gardens, perhaps since her arrival in Dorne, yet now it seemed Rhaella had never seen a smile so bright. 

"Hello handsome. You look so much like your uncle Brandon, my love, but as quiet as you are I bet you'll be more like your Uncle Ned." Lyanna cooed over her son sadly, before abruptly turning on Rhaella. "Where am I? Who are you? Does my brother know where I am?"

To say Rhaella was surprised by Lyanna's questioning was an understatement, yet Rhaella answered the girl all the same. "You're in the Water Gardens, in Dorne. I'm Rhaella Targaryen, though now I suppose you could say I'm Rhaella Nymeros Martell. As for your brother, I cannot be sure if he knows of your location yet or not."

"The Water Gardens? Rhaella Nymeros Martell? I'm so... I don't understand..." Lyanna asked, confusion written on her face.

"Worry not dear. Just focus on resting for now. Once you have a bit more rest you'll understand then." Rhaella reassured.

Lyanna made as if to protest, but Rhaella could feel the heat of the girl's fever radiating off of her and see the tiredness in the girl's steely gray eyes. In only a moment, Lyanna was snoring heavily, her small son rising and falling with every breath.

"You should go to the feast, Your Grace." Maester Alric said lightly, as he watched her vigil over Lyanna and her grandson.

"How can I go to a wedding feast after something like this? After hearing the truth about my son?" Rhaella asked fiercely, her anger at her situation being projected onto the kind maester.

"You cannot, but you must. You have married into Dorne now, Your Grace, and at this moment the people of Dorne need your reassurance." Maester Alric responds, though not unkindly. 

Rhaella knows the maester speaks the truth, even if she doesn't want to admit it. So she begins to leave, almost running into Oberyn as she does so.

"Oh my! I'm so sorry!" Rhaella exclaims as she tries to wipe up the spilled wine on the tray Oberyn was carrying, praying that she didn't get any on his doublet.

"Do not worry, Your Grace. You are fine. I should've knocked." Oberyn says, his Dornish accent thick, as he chuckles. 

"What are you doing here anyways? Shouldn't you be at the feast?" Rhaella asks curiously.

"I ended it early." Oberyn says simply, shrugging nonchalantly.

"You did what?" Rhaella asks in disbelief. That feast was most obviously a political move by Doran, perhaps to show off the power of their house now had if they had the last Targaryens. To call something like that off abruptly, and to not even have the bride show up, must've angered many of Doran's sworn vassals. 

"I ended the feast. I mean, no one was enjoying themselves anyways, and I wasn't going to ask you to miss the birth of your grandchild in the name of a stupid meal." Oberyn replied once more, still nonchalant.

"Well I appreciate the sentiment, but Oberyn-" She began to argue before Oberyn abruptly shushed her.

"You worry too much Rhaella." Oberyn halfheartedly scolded.

"You worry too little." Rhaella countered as Maester Alric, the kind old man, slipped out of the room, no doubt sensing an argument brewing.

"Perhaps." Oberyn replied with a shrug. "How's the girl? And the babe?"

Rhaella noticed that Oberyn was strained to even ask, yet she supposed she appreciated his false sentiment. "Arthur was right. The girl's dying." Rhaella replied, doing her best to turn the conversation from her grandson and Oberyn's eventual question of gender.

"Poor thing." Oberyn said, though his voice was too flat to truly mean it. "What about the babe?"

"Happy and healthy." Rhaella replied shortly, her eyes glancing over to sleeping Lyanna and the babe on her chest. 

"That's good." Oberyn said carefully, though Rhaella could still hear the bitterness and anger in his tone. "Did Rhaegar finally get his Visenya?" 

Rhaella's heart dropped as Oberyn asked about her grandson's gender. Dorne had already proclaimed for Viserys, yet... The boy might be Lyanna's bastard, but he was Rhaegar's last child and he arguably had a better claim. Dorne would never proclaim for Lyanna's bastard, and Rhaella didn't know if she would ask them too, yet if Viserys died and Daenerys tried to make a claim... She couldn't bear the thought of another dance of dragons, this time featuring her son or daughter and her grandson.

"No." She replied quickly. "It's a boy, Oberyn."

Rhaella watched as her new husband's face became a mix of deep shock, anger, and a confusion Rhaella knew all too well. His shock was one Rhaella had experienced at first as well, as she herself was surprised too that Rhaegar had predicted his son's gender incorrectly. Considering he had predicted and known Rhaenys and Aegon's gender from the moment they were conceived, it was odd for him to be so wrong when it mattered the most. His anger came from the loss of his niece and nephew, and the fact their throne could go to the bastard who's mother was the reason his half-siblings were dead. As for his confusion, Rhaella knew his dilemma all too well, yet she had no solution for it as of yet.

"Can I see him?" Oberyn asked shakily, surprising Rhaella so much she couldn't even respond. 

Rhaegar's son slept soundly upon his mother's chest, and Rhaella thought it would be simple to separate the two, until the boy started crying.

"Oh no... Don't cry..." Rhaella murmured softly as she began to rock the boy back and forth, watching in the corner of her eye to see if his mother would join him in waking.

Once the boy settled, Rhaella and Oberyn both got their first good glance at the boy. He, as she had observed before, had his mother's wild, dark brown hair, though Rhaella now noticed that the boy had little curls at the edge of his hair, a trait that was unmistakably Rhaegar's. His eyes were a deep, dark, sad gray that Rhaella assumed most would view as a trait of House Stark, yet Rhaella knew better. Her littlest grandson had his great grandfather's eyes, a trait not of House Targaryen or House Stark, but rather House Blackwood. 

"Handsome little lad, isn't he?" Oberyn said with a smile, though there was tears in his eyes. He had never gotten a chance to see Elia's youngest, yet here he was now, complimenting the bastard of the man and woman who had lead to Elia and Aegon's deaths.

"I suppose so." Rhaella replied carefully, not knowing whether to laugh or cry when her youngest grandson gripped her finger tightly in his fist, reminding her of his elder brother who had done the same thing countless times before.

Her grandson was handsome, yet not in the traditional way of beauty. Her grandson was handsome in the same wild, Northern was as his mother.

"Does he have a name, Your Grace?" Oberyn turned and asked carefully, his strained smile never leaving his lips.

"Jaeherys. His name is Jaeherys."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the late update guys! These past few days have been absolutely crazy, with the holiday and family coming into town! Anyways, I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter! For all those asking about Jon's fate, I hope this at least begins to clear the air! Also, I was wondering what you guys think, should the next chapter move along with the plot or would you like to see some smut?? I haven't decided what I'm going to upload yet and would like to get your opinions, seeing as you guys are the ones reading this. Let me know what you guys want to see next chapter, as well as what you enjoyed (or didn't enjoy) about this chapter in the comments below, and don't forget to leave a kudos if you liked the chapter. Thanks for reading!


	8. Dealings with Dragons, Wolves, and Death

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rhaella and Oberyn are surprised when they meet Ned Stark the morning after their wedding, and the three of them, plus Doran and Howland Reed, try to make a deal.

Rhaella feels like she stares at her grandson for hours when Oberyn finally takes him out of her arms and back to the boy's mother, yet it's not enough.

Jaeherys looks so much like his father, despite his Northern appearance, that Rhaella can almost feel the heat of Summerhall swallowing her once again when she looks down upon him. It hurts, more than Rhaella could ever say, just thinking about Rhaegar. Her first little boy who had always made her so, so proud was just as mad as his father in the end. He was exactly like his father in the end, and thinking of her noble, valiant boy in such a way makes Rhaella want to scream and scream and scream until there's no air left in her lungs. 

"Rhaella? I think we should get going.." Oberyn says softly, as he carefully slides the baby boy into the bassinet at his mother's bedside.

Rhaella knew he was right. She knew they had to leave. Lyanna and Jaeherys needed rest after all. Yet if they left, Rhaella's mind would definitely wonder to Rhaegar and Aerys and their madness, along with Viserys and making sure he never falls into such a state, and she didn't know if she was strong enough to deal with such things yet. She isn't given much choice though, because as soon as Jaeherys' is settled, Oberyn's leading her out the door to her room.

Her room. Rhaella had almost forgotten. She was not going to her rooms. Those were the rooms they just left. She was going to Oberyn's rooms. Rhaella felt sick just thinking about it. She wasn't ready to go to his rooms yet. Surely, they had another matter to attend to first? Or... Or perhaps she had misheard him when he said he had disbanded the feast. She was in a panic as she tried to find an explanation for where they were going that didn't lead to the obvious.

"Never thought I'd be a grandfather so young y'know? But I suppose it's not so bad. We'll have a lot to talk about with Doran in the morning though. Perhaps I can even claim the boy as mine..." Oberyn chattered absently, his focus being on the key in his hand and the door in front of them. When the door finally opened Rhaella thought she was going to be sick.

"Welcome to my humble abode." Oberyn announced as he led her into the room, no doubt he was painfully aware of her heavy silence.

Oberyn's rooms were far cleaner than Rhaella expected and were decorated far simpler than she had thought it would be. His only furniture was his large featherbed, cloaked in the same Martell colors as everything else in the Water Gardens, two mahogany night stands, and two wicker chairs that he decided to put on his small balcony. In truth his room was actually quite plain, except for his tapestries. There hung two tapestries on the two walls not by the bed, one artfully depicting Nymeria and her thousand ships landing in Dorne, and the other seeming to be a personal portrait of himself and his family. The second tapestry was an artful creation, with Oberyn and his siblings surrounded by their children, no doubt added by time, and their spouses. It seemed beautiful anyways, until Rhaella's eyes landed on her silver son and the slash marks on his laughing face.

"Your art is beautiful." Rhaella spoke timidly, hating herself for having her voice shake when she finally spoke. 

"Thank you. I always loved the stories of Nymeria as a boy, and well... I've always loved my family I supposed." Oberyn responds carefully as he manages to slip a glass of wine into her shaking fists. Rhaella drinks it faster than is proper, but at this point she can't force herself to care.

They sit in silence for a little bit after that, the awkwardness and nerves between the two of them obvious. Though eventually, Oberyn manages to pierce the thick silence.

"I'm not a monster Rhaella. I'm not him. I won't hurt you. I won't touch you." Oberyn says quietly, his voice shaking with the power of his proclamation. It's a noble proposition, one Rhaella desperately wants to agree with, but Robert Baratheon and Tywin Lannister's shadows loom over her and her children like a nightmare. Despite her nerves and her fear, she has accepted her fate.

"I do not doubt that Oberyn." Rhaella begins with a sigh. "Yet, I will not lose my children to Tywin Lannister and Robert Baratheon. I will not lose them and the safety we've found here because I couldn't do my duty." 

Rhaella's not sure when she begins crying, probably on Tywin's name, but she's sure she looks absolutely pitiful. It's all just far too much. Far too much for one day, for one person. She cannot take it. Between Rhaegar's and Aerys' madness, and Tywin's and Steffon's son's betrayal, and all the damned death around her, it's too much. She just wants safety. She wants the Red Keep's high walls surrounding her as a girl as she chases Loreza and Johanna around the keep. She wants to hear Aerys giggling about as he and Steffon talk about how strong, confident Tywin gets tongue tied in front of his cousin Johanna. She wants Rhaegar's harp to bring life into the Red Keep as he writes songs to impress his new lady wife. She wants Rhaenys, Viserys, and Rhaenys' little black kitten to be dancing around her, begging her to join them in a dance. She just wants to be safe, for once in her life, and to not have to worry about her or her children's welfare.

Oberyn's arms are strong when they guide her to his bed and set her on the edge, before seating himself beside her, and his heartbeat is even stronger when he allows her a place to rest her head on his chest and weep. She flinches when she realizes what she's done. It is the second time today she's allowed her grief and tears to consumer her in front of Oberyn. She cannot have him, or any of the Martells, thinking her weak. She is a dragon, dammit! She needs to act like it.

"I'm sorry." Rhaella whispers as she practically jumps out of her husband's arms, surprising him. "I'm usually not so weepy, I swear."

Oberyn in response chuckles, making Rhaella smack him lightly, causing him to chuckle even harder. "Crying is no weakness, and it deserves no apology." He reassures her, his voice soft.

"I just... I just cannot fall into Robert Baratheon's grasp or Tywin Lannister's, and neither can my children. We cannot Oberyn, I will not allow it." Rhaella says shakily, trying to make him see, to understand.

"No one would know Rhaella. We could pay the servants to say we did. No one would be any the wiser-" Oberyn begins, trying to find a way out of their uncomfortable situation, before being stopped Rhaella.

"And what happens when the Lannister's outbid us for the servants silence? What happens when they drag us in front of the Holy Septon to destroy our farce marriage? What will happen when you and Doran return back to Dorne and my children and I remain in their custody? Will my son be executed immediately, do you think? Or do you think they'll wait until he's a man grown and make it looks like an accident so they can pretend there's no blood on their hands? And what of my daughter? Will she be forced to marry Robert's son and bear him a son before she's killed too? Or do you think she'll be taken as a mistress by Robert and then executed? Perhaps both? What do you think?" Rhaella yells, her voice rising unwillingly, as she forces him to contemplate what she has been thinking about ever since they'd arrived.

"I... I'm not... I don't know! Rhaella I'm sorry! I just don't want to hurt you. We're going to be married for life after this... I don't want to hurt you so that you hate me for all that time. You deserve better than that." Oberyn yells back, causing Rhaella to unwillingly flinch, something Oberyn notices. He calms down almost immediately after that, though his words continue rushing out.

"Why are you being so kind?" Rhaella asks suddenly, her voice sounding much harsher than she intended, because she needs an answer. If she's going to do her do her duty, with him, she needs to know why he's doing this. 

"I.. I realized my mistake in being harsh to you the first day you arrived and I sought to correct it, especially after we were betrothed. I.. I was so angry and grief-stricken those first few days after Elia I couldn't think straight. I should've realized you weren't to blame for your husband and son's mistakes, but I blamed you anyways. I've been trying to rectify that." Oberyn answered quietly, his eyes never straying far from his hands. 

"I appreciate you kindness." Rhaella added as some kind of afterthought, almost angry at herself for not thinking that perhaps someone could just be kind. Still, she found she could not trust him.

"I'm glad. Please, promise me that you'll remember my kindness, if we are going to... Well you know... I don't want you to to think I'm like him. Please." Oberyn half-pleaded, half-stuttered. It was odd for Rhaella to see the Red Viper of Dorne tongue-tied on the matter of bedding, considering his past, but it was oddly comforting.

Rhaella leaned closer to her new husband, whom despite all his children and his bravado, seemed more a boy than man at this moment. "I promise." She responded quietly, her heart in her throat as she leaned so she was only inches apart from Oberyn's face. 

Oberyn Martell's breath was warm and ticklish on Rhaella's face at that moment, and when he kissed her, just a chaste peck on the lips, Rhaella found herself praying that Oberyn would live up to his pretty words.

~*~

The next morning, Rhaella was groggy. Groggy enough to forget that yesterday had happened it seemed, so when she rolled over to see Oberyn Martell's still sleeping face in front of her she almost screamed, almost anyways. She bites her lips so hard she draws blood to stop herself from waking her husband, something that inevitably wakes him anyways.

"Hello Rhaella." Oberyn said simply, his dark eyes radiating warmth. "I trust you slept well?" 

"I- Yes." Rhaella manages to spit out, painfully aware of how naked they both are under the sheets and how close they are.

"Good." Oberyn responds cheerfully as he darts out of bed, his very naked form forgotten as he traipses around the room apparently looking for something. It is only at Rhaella's uncomfortable cough that Oberyn seems to find what he's looking for.

"Here it is!" Oberyn announces animatedly while Rhaella makes a point of staring at her hands. "Now, Rhaella may I ask what your favorite color is?" 

"My favorite color?" She stutters, her mind going haywire as she tries to keep her eyes anywhere in the room except where Oberyn is. What exactly was Oberyn Martell needing to know her favorite color for?

"Mmmhmm." Oberyn responds distractedly as he finally manages to slip into an orange bathrobe.

"Purple, My Prince. Violet." She answers, finally able to think and relax a bit now that her new husband is dressed.

Rhaella is a little surprised when a violet bathrobe, cut in the same style as Oberyn's but smaller, is flung into her lap. She is grateful nonetheless though.

"I figured since it's only a bit past dawn that we could get something to eat here, and then in a little bit we could go check on the kids. I had Daenerys put into Sarella's and Tyene's nursery, I hope you don't mind. I also had Viserys moved so his rooms are across from our own and next to Obara's." Oberyn explains. "After we check on them, I'm sure Doran will be calling upon us soon as well, so we can talk about Jaeherys' fate." 

"If Lyanna can, I want her to meet with us. She should have some say in her son's fate." Rhaella responds, causing her husband to frown. 

"Well-" Oberyn begins to argue before being abruptly interrupted by a series of fast paced, harsh knocks. Oberyn only shoots her one glance of suspicion before opening the door.

A haggard young man with mud brown hair and sunken cheeks stands in the doorway, practically gasping for air. His servants attire is practically filled with dust, and when he tries to speak the only thing that comes out is dust.

"Are you okay? What's going on? Do you need help?" Oberyn asks quickly as he escorts the boy inside while Rhaella grabs him one of those wicker chairs on the balcony and a glass of wine.

With three giant gulps, the wine is gone, and the boy's spluttering stops. "I... I came here as fast as I could, milord. There's a party in the distance wieldin white banners with a gray monster on them, and they're coming this way! I wasn't the only one who saw 'em tho! This man dressed all in white dashed straight out the door to go meet 'em! I didn't mean to intrude on you and milady but I couldn't get to Prince Doran fast enough." The boy spits out, his words rushing out of his mouth in a kind of hurry Rhaella's never seen anyone speak in before.

"It's okay lad, you did good. I'll see that you be paid double for all your trouble. Just relax for now, okay?" Oberyn speaks calmly, surprising Rhaella at how even and reassuring his tone is.

"Okay, okay, okay..." The boy replies numbly, while Rhaella flicks Oberyn's clothes to him and gathers her own.

They change quickly, and before she can even truly blink, they're out in the hallway with Oberyn yelling commands at the servants. It's the first time Rhaella notices that he grabbed his spear, the one that earned him his nickname.

"Oberyn..." Rhaella whispers urgently as she and Oberyn sprint through the corridors. "Arthur could've just plunged us right back into the war. He could've... Oh what if he kills Lord Stark?"

"Arthur's a fucking fool." Oberyn says hotly, his anger bright in his eyes. "He'll ruin everything we're working for, the peace and safety we're trying to make."

They don't get a chance to talk again because before Rhaella can even notice they're at the gate. 

They arrive in just enough time to watch Ser Arthur strike one of Lord Stark's companion in the stomach, his blade sticking into the man's entrails. Rhaella wasn't sure how many Stark originally brought with him, but with the last man's gruesome death, there's only two of them remaining. 

Arthur's still losing though, he was injured before this fight after all, and has only been hurt worse as the fight continues. It's surprising he last as long as he does in truth. It only takes a moment though, one moment of weakness, and Stark and his friend are on him. Rhaella can hear the men on the field yelling, as well as Oberyn, though he yells for someone to open the gate, but it seems quiet when Rhaella watches Ser Arthur die. Ser Arthur is tired, that's obvious, and when he trips up on a sand dune Rhaella wonders if this is what Rhaegar felt like at the Trident, as he slipped and slid in the river he'd die in. Ser Arthur doesn't scream in pain when the smaller man stabs his spear straight through his kneecap, he only stumbles, and Rhaella wonders if Rhaegar stumbled when Robert's hammer hit his chest for the first time. Then it's over. The taller man, the one she presumes is Lord Stark, slashes his sword right across Arthur's chest and then it's done. Ser Arthur's violet eyes stare up at the Dornish sunrise blankly, not truly seeing, as his lifesblood gathers around him, and Rhaella wonders if Ser Arthur gasped for anyone in his last moment, like everyone said her son did. She wonders, and she wonders, and she wonders...

~*~

It takes four men to rip Ashara Dayne away from her brother's corpse, and Rhaella can still hear her screaming even after she's long gone. 

Ser Arthur Dayne was brought in by three servants and Oberyn himself, only to be laid upon the table unceremoniously in Doran's solar, and when the time came for his family to be told it came down to Rhaella. Oberyn and Doran were busy arguing over their dead friends corpse, and how to proceed with Lord Eddard Stark and Lord Howland Reed. The two men had submitted to captivity as soon as Oberyn and her arrived at the scene, and no one knew what to do with them.

When Rhaella goes to Alleras Dayne, Ashara Dayne, and Allyria Dayne, she wasn't sure what she expected. She knew there'd be tears, of corse, but she hadn't expected the anger. Ashara had to have told them already, surely? Yet it appeared it was not so. Alleras and his little sister had sobbed, but Ashara? Ashara screamed. She screamed at Rhaella and her brother and to her brother that would never hear her scream again, and to bloody Brandon Stark for some reason. It was all too much. She left before she could hear too much of their grief.

~*~ 

Lord Stark and Lord Howland don't even look up when Rhaella, Oberyn, and Doran enter, and Rhaella does her best to hate them on sight. Thy helped Robert after all, and Robert took her future away from her, yet she finds she can't. They both look so empty, like men who've been to hell and back. It's only by seeing them that Rhaella decides she's never seen two men so young look so empty and old.

Lord Eddard Stark, the quiet wolf, the second son, the North's newest lord, has the same pained, steel gray eyes as his sister. He is a young man, possibly not even a man grown yet, and is wiry with muscle from war. He's obviously burdened though, and any youth apparent in his frame, is hidden behind the stress he's been living in these past few months. If it weren't for Rhaegar, Rhaella think she'd might feel bad for him.

Lord Howland Reed, one of Lord Eddard's friends and bannermen, was a mystery to everyone. He seemed to be a crannogman, as he is so small that if he wasn't he'd appear to be a young boy, but it really doesn't distinguish much else about him. As small and skinny as he was, he appeared so young, but looking into his mossy green eyes it was obvious that he's wise beyond his years and he's seen much more than a boy his age should have.

"So, Lord Stark we've come here to talk of your punishment for murdering Ser Arthur Dayne. Do you deny these charges?" Doran asks, his voice cool and calm almost like he wasn't screaming just minutes ago.

"Where's my sister? If I'm going to be executed I want to see my sister." Lord Stark responds coldly, his eyes like iron.

"You're not going to be executed, Lord Stark. We just want an answer for the charges laid at your feet by House Dayne." Rhaella says softly, throwing looks over her shoulder at her husband and his brother. "There's much to be discussed so the sooner we can get this Dayne business finished, the better."

"I killed him, but the man charged at us, he killed two of my most loyal men, what was I expected to do?" Lord Eddard speaks up, his voice calm in its anger. "Now may I meet with my sister?" 

"That admission won't sate the Daynes." Oberyn practically hisses but Rhaella holds her hand up, silencing him.

"Of course it won't." She shoots back to her husband. "But nothing probably will. They just lost a brother, after all. Let us go meet Lady Lyanna." 

"Are you being serious?" Howland Reed finally speaks up, his voice managing to be calm and cool even in disbelief.

"Rhaella perhaps that's isn't a good idea." Doran says cautiously, no doubt thinking of Lyanna's waning health.

"Why wouldn't that be a good idea, Prince Doran?" Lord Stark practically spits out, his coolness forgotten at this odd mention of his sister.

"I didn't mean it badly. Just that, well... I suppose you'll see when you arrive." Doran says quickly, trying to reassure Lord Stark.

The rest of their walk is spent in awkward silence, and Rhaella is vaguely aware of Oberyn grabbing her hand somewhere during the time. She wonders if it's for him or for her that he does it, but decides midway through the walk that she'd rather not know.

"Lord Stark I'd prepare yourself for the worst when we enter." Oberyn says quietly, his voice sad as he thinks not of Lyanna behind the door, but Elia dead in King's Landing.

"The worst?" Lord Stark replies and something in how broken his voice is makes Rhaella want to weep because she knows the emotion all too well.

"The worst." Oberyn confirms as he opens the door to Lyanna's room.

The room stinks as much of death as it had the day before, and Rhaella gags just to enter. The crown of roses, once blue, now black, sit on Lyanna's bedside as she sleeps. At least Rhaella hopes she sleeps. She doesn't think she can deal with another death right now.

"Sister! Oh Lyanna! Baby sister!" Eddard Stark, cold Eddard Stark, practically springs to his sister's side.

At her brother's voice Lyanna wakes, and despite her terrible fever and the pain she no doubt still feels, she smiles.

"Oh Ned. Big brother. My honorable, quiet big brother. I knew I could count on you. I knew you'd come save me Ned. I knew it. You were always so honorable and kind Ned. I knew it.." Lyanna trails off as she feebly tries to grab her brother's hand.

"I'm here Lya, and so is Howland. We came here to rescue you, just like all those stories you loved as a girl. We're gonna take you back to Winterfell and you'll meet my little boy, Robb, and my Tully wife and see Ben again and we'll be happy and we'll grow old together Lya. It'll be okay, I promise." Eddard Stark chokes out, each word more of a lie than the last. 

Lyanna Stark cries at her brother's words, the sound sad and soft, and when she finally speaks her voice is hysterical.

"I'm going to die Ned. I know I am and I'm sorry. I'm so sorry Ned. I wish I could take it back Ned. I just wanted... wanted to be free. You wouldn't understand Ned you were his son not his daughter! I... I would take it back though if I knew the price. I loved them more than anything Ned. You must know that! Please Ned... I am sorry... No one was meant to die, especially not Father, especially not Brandon." Lyanna sobs, her tears coming down like rivers flowing on her face. "Now I'm going to die and everyone died for nothing, and my son will die as well."

Ned Stark, who had been very busy weeping, stops suddenly at Lyanna's mention of her son.

"Your son, Lya?" Ned asks quietly, his voice shaking terribly so.

Howland Reed is the one who hands Ned Stark his nephew, his own face sad and quiet at this discovery. Ned's face is one of terrible grief and pure joy, and when his little nephew settles into his arms he looks like he wants to weep. It is only then, with Jaeherys sitting comfortably in his uncle's arms, does it occur to Rhaella how Starkly her grandson looks.

"Oh Lya." Ned sighs as he looks at his nephew. "Oh Lya."

"You must keep him safe Ned. You're his uncle, Ned, his blood. You know what happened to Rhaegar's other children, and no doubt you probably even saw Robert's displeasure at Rhaella and her children's safety for yourself. He'll kill him Ned. You know it. Promise me, Ned. Promise me you'll keep him safe." Lyanna begs her brother, her hands like a vice on Ned's arm. There is an urgency in her face too that's quite unsettling.

"I promise. I promise Lya." Ned replies, his voice shaking fiercely with the sobs he's choking down. His show of terrible grief makes Rhaella feel like an intruder.

Lyanna's vice upon her brother drops then, and she smiles. Her smile is desperate and full of teeth and so wide it looks like it hurts. No one is sure who's she's smiling to though. Her dark, gray eyes stare straight ahead in a way that reminds Rhaella far too much of Arthur's blank gaze from this morning. She seems free of pain, at the very least, which Rhaella supposes is a blessing. It's hard enough to die, there's no reason to make it worse by dying in pain.

It's only at Jaeherys, quiet Jaeherys who hadn't cried since he was born, screaming and sobbbing for any of them to realize Lyanna Stark was dead.

Ned Stark's sobs sound startlingly like Ashara Dayne's from this morning, and when he gasps Lyanna name, begging her to awake it's all too much. Rhaella takes Jaeherys out into the hall so they can both escape the death surrounding them.

"It's okay little one... It's okay." Rhaella murmured to her grandson as she rocked him, painfully aware of how not okay everything was.

"Rhaella?" Her husband's Dornish accent made her name sound harsh, as he exited the room of Lyanna Stark's death.

"Right here Oberyn." She called back unevenly.

"Ned Stark promises to meet with us once he has a moment with his sister. In the meantime, I'm meant to tell the Daynes' that even though Stark admits to the charges we cannot punish him." Oberyn says flatly, sounding more tired than sad. 

She isn't quite sure how to respond to such a thing. She knew Arthur was Oberyn's friend. A thousand emotions must be turning in his heart. He surely felt as betrayed as she did that Arthur didn't defend Elia and her children, yet he surely had to grieve the friend he once had. Rather than focus on her own grief for Rhaegar's friend, who was one of the last links to Rhaegar she had, she began turning her attention back to her grandson. She's only stopped by Oberyn speaking up once more.

"I can't believe Arthur... He was my friend once Rhaella. How could he do any of this? All of it?" Oberyn asks tiredly, tears brimming brightly in his eyes. 

"I.. I'm not sure. He was honorable.. He wanted to die with a bit of honor left, I suppose." She answers, her own tears finally slipping out as she thinks back to Ser Arthur when he was first knighted and how he vowed to be Aemon the Dragonknight come again to her son.

"I can't look his siblings in the eyes Rhaella. How can I tell him that it was his fault? That his death was his own doing?" Oberyn asks, his tears freely flowing as he begs her for an answer that will clear his conscious. 

"You can't but you must." Rhaella responds, and then they both begin to weep.

~*~

The meeting with Lord Stark and Lord Reed over her grandson's fate was a dreadful affair. Inside Doran solar, where Arthur's body laid not even hours ago, they tried to broker a deal that would make everyone happy. Nothing seemed to though.

"I will not have my nephew be claimed as your bastard! How can I be assured you want the best for him? Also, when he grows up looking like a Stark, what will you claim then?" Ned Stark stormed, his bloodshot gray eyes full of fury.

"Of course I want the best for him! Just because we're not blood relatives doesn't mean anything! He's my wife's grandson, making him technically my grandson! I'm not just going to have him murdered because he's not Aegon or Rhaenys. As for his appearance, half of my children don't look like me! No one will question anything!" Oberyn yelled, his kind, gentle personality from earlier replaced now with the Red Viper of Dorne.

"I'd prefer if Jaeherys was close to me." Rhaella interjected, hoping that by playing the grandmother card that Ned Stark would bend to her and Oberyn's will.

"Jaeherys? He has a Targaryen name?" Howland Reed asks, still somehow maintaining his calmness even in such a heated meeting. 

"You gave him a Targaryen name after all Rhaegar did to Lya?" Ned asks incredulously.

"Of course." Rhaella responded. "To some he might be the rightful King, and to others he is the crown prince, behind Viserys only because he was already crowned."

"Robert Baratheon is the only King I know of." Ned Stark managed through gritted teeth.

"Be that as it may Lord Stark, others do not even recognize Robert's claim and still look to the remaining Targaryens for action. Jaeherys must be here, just in case." Doran says evenly.

"Are you saying you are planning to attack Robert and continue the war?" Howland asks, his voice hinting at his hidden incredulity.

"If we were we wouldn't be telling you two..." Oberyn snorts while Rhaella tries to respond.

"Obviously not. We've lost too much in this war to continue it. We'd like House Targaryen to have a future though. If we just submit to Robert he'll have my children and myself killed for treachery. If we put on a united front with Dorne, Robert will never be able to get away with taking us away. The casualties on both sides would be too high. If Jaeherys is in the North at that time, Robert could easily write to you and tell you to kill him or he will." Rhaella says firmly, trying to show them all that there is no choice but to keep Jaeherys here.

"I wouldn't tell Robert anything." Ned Stark shoots back, almost childishly.

"And how can we be so sure?" Oberyn asks, his voice edging on mocking.

"Why would I endanger my own blood? I saw Robert's reaction when he saw Elia and her children's remains. I'm not an idiot. Jaeherys is my last remaining link to Lya. I would not throw that away. I could actually guarantee him more safety. If he's in Dorne where Robert's anger is being directed, Robert will sniff him out. He might be idiotic sometimes, but Robert knows a Stark when he sees one. If I name him my bastard, or perhaps even my brother's, then no one, Robert included, will balk at him." Ned Stark answers.

"Well, if Robert-" Oberyn begins before being stopped by Rhaella's soft touch of his arm.

"No, Oberyn, Lord Stark is right. Robert won't look at what's right in front of him. Though we must talk about the possibility of the crown falling to Jaeherys, and make sure that you're loyal to our cause." Rhaella calmly proclaims, her heart dropping with every word. She wouldn't be able to see her grandson crawl, cut his first tooth, learn to walk, learn to talk, or see his first nameday. If Ned Stark's plan to pass him off as a bastard works well and her plans of seating Viserys on the throne fails, this might be the last time she saw him at all.

"Right. Currently, Viserys is Dorne's proclaimed King and Robert is the North's. Though as Rhaella would say, Jaeherys is entitled to take both's place in a sense. What do you say Lord Stark?" Doran cuts in, his tone completely at ease even though he prepares to talk politics.

"The North only knows Robert Baratheon as it's King, and after him we will know his firstborn son. We are not traitors." Ned Stark replied firmly.

"How can we give Jaeherys to you after such a proclamation?" Oberyn asks angrily.

"You can give him to me knowing I love my sister and would never hurt her child. You just would have to deal with the fact I will not betray my foster brother to seat Rhaella's second son onto the throne." Ned replies icily.

"Well it needs not necessarily be Viserys on the throne..." Rhaella counters.

"We already proclaimed for Viserys, though Rhaella." Doran interjects.

"I thought you just said you would proclaim for Jaeherys?" Rhaella points out angrily.

"We did, yet there'd need to be a compromise of some sort, or a betrothal, to make us happy. You can understand why we'd be unhappy kneeling to Lyanna's son when Elia's should be in his place." Oberyn answers back, quietly.

"We could talk of that later. I believe we were focusing on Lord Stark and his apparent love of Robert Baratheon." Rhaella announces, her voice edging on dangerous as she tries to show her husband and Doran that regardless of their problems, they must appear united with her.

"Yes I believe we were." Doran agrees, his understanding of the hidden meaning in her words obvious.

"I love Robert Baratheon as my foster brother. Yet that doesn't mean I would betray my blood for him." Ned says angrily.

"If you love him so, then does that mean you condone his actions?" Oberyn asks, his voice dangerously calm.

"Speak plainly." Howland Reed spits at Oberyn.

"What I'm asking, Lord Reed, is that does Lord Stark here think the murder of innocent children or the brutal rape of women is okay." Oberyn says dangerously and Rhaella can practically see the hatred in his eyes.

"Robert didn't commit those acts." Ned Stark shoots back defensively. Rhaella can tell by the way he clenches his jaw that Oberyn's hit a nerve.

"He condoned them though Lord Stark, didn't he?" Doran asks quietly, his eyes filled with the pain of his family murders.

Ned Stark doesn't reply, yet Rhaella could see the answer in his eyes. If Robert Baratheon was here, Rhaella would claw his eyes out in her anger. She'd do anything to hurt him like he's hurt her.

"So you see why we're hesitant giving you Rhaegar Targaryen's last child, don't you?" Doran asks carefully, waiting for Ned Stark to just finally fall into his trap.

"Of course I see why you're hesitant, but I cannot actually believe that you'd think I'd sell my own flesh and blood. The moment the boy was placed in my arms, I loved him. He's my last remaining link to Lyanna." Ned Stark concedes, though he's rather resilient even while conceding.

 

"If you loved him, you'd be dedicated to getting his birthright back for him then." Oberyn responds angrily.

"And betray my friend and become a traitor? I cannot do that. Perhaps I don't love Robert as much as I love the boy, but I still love him. He's committed sins I don't agree with, sure, but he's still my friend. I'm tired too. My army is tired too. They will not fight to put another Targeryen into power when three Stark's died when the last one was there. I'd support Jaeherys' claim if it comes to that, but that's as far as I'll concede." Ned Stark says with a sigh.

"Perhaps I could suggest something? If such a circumstance passes where Viserys dies, assuming your both are in agreement that you'd like Viserys to be in power now, then the crown could pass to my daughter Daenerys or Jaeherys. This could start another Dance Of Dragons and with Robert Baratheon in power, we cannot have that happen. I do not doubt Dorne would proclaim for Daenerys, and if Ned keeps his word then the North would proclaim for Jaeherys. Married though, my grandson and daughter would link both of our loyalties together." Rhaella proposes, trying not to smile in victory as she looks at everyone considering it. "Not that it will matter if Viserys lives long enough to make a claim to the throne and raise an army." 

"That could work..." Doran says carefully, weighing every word in his mind. "Yet many would ask of Daenerys' betrothal when she grows older, especially Robert, and they won't stop when you tell them that she's betrothed to a Northern bastard. We'd also need something to guarantee Lord Stark's loyalties." 

"Perhaps Jaeherys doesn't need to be a Northern bastard then? Lord Stark could name him his brother Brandon's and ask that Robert quietly legitimize him, to stop the boy from pressing a claim on Winterfell in the future and to keep our facade alive. As for Daenerys, I will firmly say that she is going to marry her brother. It will stop people from asking about either her or Viserys then." Rhaella answers back, praying that they will still consider her plan. 

"We could guarantee Lord Stark's loyalty by taking in a ward. Your son, Lord Stark, or maybe your first daughter? Perhaps we might even broker a betrothal?" Oberyn adds.

"I will not rebel against Robert, yet if this keeps Lya's son safe and away from the possibility that Robert will find him then I'll do it." Ned Stark responds gruffly.

"I don't see any other options that won't upset one of us. I agree." Doran Martell agrees while Ned's friend Howland nods his approval as well.

In the end it is only Oberyn who they await of approval from, and it seems like a no brainer that he will agree. He seems uncertain about something though, and Rhaella hopes that whatever is about to come out of his mouth won't ruin the deal they just made.

"I thought you wouldn't sell your children Rhaella?" Oberyn says unexpectedly, his words cutting her like a knife.

"I will do what I must so I have children to sell." Rhaella responds, somewhat in anger and somewhat in sadness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Angst, angst, angst!! I hope you guys liked this XL chapter! I'm sorry it was delayed but it was originally going to be two chapters and I just couldn't find a good place to cut it off! Tell me what you think of the chapter and the chapter length in the comments below! Also tell me what you thought about my experiment with jumpcuts! Like them or not? Let me know! I love hearing from you guys! Thank you for reading and remember to leave a kudos if you enjoyed!


	9. The Storm to Come

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rhaella, as well as the rest of Dorne, recieve grave news upon the Martells' return to Sunspear.

It is the hour of the wolf when Ned Stark and Howland Reed finally board the boat that will eventually carry them and her grandson North, and as Rhaella stands on the docks, her son and new husband at her side, she tries not to weep.

Just an hour earlier, she and her family had said their goodbyes to Jaeherys, and in her children's cases, they had also said their greetings. Daenerys was far too young to understand who the babe was or why it was of importance, yet Viserys understood far too well. Her second son's lilac eyes were shadowed with grief and anger when she placed his newest nephew in his arms only an hour ago. 

"Is he King now?" Viserys had asked her stiffly, his jaw clenched angrily.

"No. If he was, would that upset you?" Rhaella had replied carefully, slightly disappointed by her son's reaction to discovering a child of Rhaegar's still lived.

It took her son a long moment to answer, his sad lilac eyes too busy with studying his nephew's features. When he finally did, his voice was hollow and cold.

"It should be Aegon here, not him."

Rhaella didn't know how to respond to Viserys's bitterness. She couldn't chastise him. She knew what he meant, why he was so angry and bitter, and she knew he didn't mean harm to the boy. It shocked her to hear her sweet boy be so angry and bitter at a babe for surviving when his half-brother didn't, especially when it was something the babe in question couldn't control, yet she understood his pain. She too would always wish for little Aegon, yet that didn't mean she would begrudge his brother's survival. 

"Perhaps, love, yet we must not be greedy. Jaeherys is the last piece of Rhaegar we have. We should treasure him." Rhaella had said instead, her chastisement so light it was like she had never even said it.

In reply, her son had nodded. So, for the better part of an hour her son had spent his time with a babe in his arms trying for his mother's sake not to look painfully bored. Wrapped in a blanket as gray as his eyes, her grandson seemed to be entranced with his uncle, or a mute, as he couldn't seem to cry while placed in Viserys's arms. Viserys, on the other hand, seemed to have tears brimming in his eyes all the while. Haunted by the ghosts of his niece and nephew, Viserys spun slowly around the room with his arms full of the bundle of blankets and babe. The silence of the room only managed to be broken by the sound of Viserys taking soft steps in his boots, Daenerys and Jaeherys's babbling, and sometimes the soft, low sound of her son halfheartedly singing a lullaby. It was a heartbreaking sight to behold.

When Ned Stark and her husband knocked on her door, signaling the end of her and her children's time with Jaeherys, Rhaella didn't know whether or not to be relieved or panicked. She wasn't ready to give up her last link to Rhaegar so soon.

"Mother?" Viserys asked quietly, breaking her away from her thoughts about the past hour.

"Yes, love?" Rhaella replied as she watched the small ship recede in the distance.

"Is Jaeherys going to be okay?" Viserys asked quietly, sounding more childish in that moment than he had allowed himself too in what felt like a long time.

Rhaella didn't know how to answer his question. As soon as Ned Stark returned home from Dorne, Rhaella had no doubt that Robert Baratheon and Jon Arryn would be at their door, so he would definitely be safer in the North than in Dorne. Yet she couldn't still help but wonder... They had extracted a written promise from Ned Stark that he'd support the boy's claim no matter what, and if it ever came to a point where Robert wasn't in power and had no legitimate heirs that he'd support Viserys's claim for the throne, as well as the promise to send a child of his to be a cupbearer in Dorne. Still, Ned Stark was Robert's friend, and even if he had rebelled for actually legitimate reasons he was still partly responsible for the fact that Rhaegar, Elia, and their children were dead. She could never forget a fact like that. 

"I don't know, love. I hope so." Rhaella finally replied, trying to make the words sound more reassuring than they actually were.

Viserys didn't reply after that, and she could tell he wasn't sated by her reply, yet he spoke no more on the subject. Instead he, just watched the boat.

In silence they sat, simply watching as a simple cargo ship, carrying cargo that was anything but simple, slipped under the star speckled horizon. 

It was only when dawn finally broke, and the ship was truly gone and not hidden by darkness, did Oberyn and Viserys finally drag her away from the docks. Today was the day that they'd be leaving the Water Gardens, as all the wedding guests had, and they'd head back to Sunspear to prepare for war. They had to get an early start if they wanted to make it to Sunspear in enough time to get anything done.

"Why don't you go to your room and pack lad? And could you be so kind as to get my daughters up? They're not exactly early risers." Oberyn asked Viserys quickly, his voice cheery and kind like it always was when he spoke to one of the children.

"Sure. I'll make sure Obara and I pack for Sara and Dany too." Viserys replied as he began to dash away, the gates of the Water Gardens screeching as they opened up to allow them all entrance.

"Atta boy!" Oberyn called ahead, Rhaella noticing that a small smile flittered onto Viserys's face at his step-father's approval.

With Viserys ahead of them, Rhaella and Oberyn were alone. After the past day, with so much chaos and little time alone, Rhaella felt almost awkward in his presence. He was still new to her, and he was a riddle and a half it seemed. Complex and confusing, Rhaella wasn't sure she understood Oberyn Martell, yet she was beginning to trust him. It was a start, Rhaella supposed.

"You know there wasn't much else you could do Rhaella." Oberyn spoke kindly, surprising Rhaella with his support for her definition and his talk of Jaeherys.

"There wasn't?" She questioned tiredly, trying not to think about how her grandson would grow up not even knowing his real name or his true family and how much they loved him.

"Not that I perceive. The boy will be safe in the North. Nobody looks at bastards north of Dorne, and Robert Baratheon would never suspect his best friend, honorable Ned Stark to betray him and raise a Targaryen." Oberyn replies kindly, almost as if he is trying to soothe her.

"Be that as it may, I cannot help but worry." Rhaella said with a sigh as they made their way to their room.

"I'd expect nothing less." Oberyn replied back with a laugh.

Once back in their room, Rhaella and Oberyn both were efficient in packing, neither of them sparing much time to fix the room up or pack neatly. Oddly though, Rhaella does notice how Oberyn's tapestry of his family was missing off his wall.

"Where's your family portrait?" Rhaella asked at one point, her focus divided between the missing picture and how to pack Aegon I's ancient crown into her bags without breaking it.

"I already sent it on up ahead." Oberyn replied without a thought, his focus more on sorting his pile of clothes into dirty and clean inside his bag. 

Despite thinking this odd, Rhaella let it drop. He had yet to pack his other tapestry, but perhaps that was due to it's lack of personal nature. Either way, they had more important things to focus on, like the fact she just heard what sounded like Nym, Tyene, and most likely Arianne running and screeching down the hallway...

With the missing tapestry forgotten, their clothes packed, and their children (somewhat) sorted, Rhaella and Oberyn left the Water Gardens around midday in the same fashion they arrived. In the same litter they rode in before, Oberyn and Rhaella were seated much the same, very close together and with their daughters on their laps. The only difference this time around was that they were joined by two others in this ride, Doran Martell and his wife Mellario.

"So, when we get back to Sunspear I think it would be best if we held council immediately, and if not a war council then at least a meeting. Most lords of Dorne are nearby, perhaps I can call them back and we can even properly crown Viserys. If not, we can at least get my maester to write up a declaration of independence from the Seven Kingdoms." Doran droned on, bringing up the inevitable. 

"Perhaps, love, yet we'll discuss exactly what we'll do when we get to Sunspear. For now, we should just try to relax. Robert Baratheon can wait, for now at least." Mellario replied firmly, her tone not allowing any room for argument.

"Of course, dear. I just feel we should be prepared just in case..." Doran trailed off defeatedly while his son, Quentyn, wriggled fiercely in his arms.

"I know, love. Trust me, I know how you do worry. For now though, we should focus on more pleasant things." Mellario replied to her husband, her love for him obvious, before turning to Rhaella. "Speaking of pleasant things, I have decided to visit my home, Norvos, in the next few weeks. Now I know you two have yet to truly celebrate your marriage or spend any time alone together, but I was wondering Rhaella if I could steal you and Viserys away to accompany Arianne and I on our voyage?" 

It was obvious to Rhaella that if Mellario and her eldest child, Doran's heir, would be leaving the city soon that Doran and her must expect Robert Baratheon to bring war upon Dorne soon, a war that Doran wasn't sure they could win.

"I'm sure Viserys would be delighted with the prospect of seeing one of the free cities, as I am as well, yet I still will have to ask him if he wants to go. I will say though, that I do appreciate the offer and I will do all I can to get my son to consider going." Rhaella replied tactfully, being careful not to offend the woman who Rhaella considered a friend.

"Wonderful. Well I'll keep you updated on the travel plans then." Mellario said with a bright clap of her hands. "I'd extend the invite to you Oberyn, dear brother, but I fear you shall be busy then. If any of your children would like to join us, though, they may."

By the way Oberyn grits his teeth and clenches his jaw, Rhaella can tell he is thinking the same things as her. Dorne is doomed. Yet instead of simple acceptance, like her, he is defiant in the face of these improbable and terrifying odds.

"I'm sure my daughters would enjoy that." Oberyn manages to grit out, his jaw so stiff Rhaella finds it a wonder that he could even speak at all.

"Good, good. With all that somewhat sorted, perhaps we can focus on more important matters at hand. Now I know Oberyn upset Lord Yronwood, yet he came to the wedding and seemed to act pleasant enough. How many troops do you think he'll supply and..." Doran begins to drone on once more, his questions and hypothetical situations about the incoming war boring Rhaella so terribly that at one point she rudely falls asleep upon Oberyn's shoulder. She never had much of a head for war, after all, and all she ever truly cared about was that her loved ones were alive.

The rest of their ride to Sunspear is quiet, with only Doran and Oberyn's plotting interrupting the soft silence that surrounds them. Mellario's eyes are distant and even when Rhaella makes meager attempts at small talk, Mellario keeps quiet. Rhaella doesn't mind much though, she's always preferred the softness of silence to the heaviness of words.

Once at Sunspear, their litter is stopped almost immediately at their approach.

"My prince! My prince!" An older servant rushes out from the castle, his screaming so loud that Rhaella thinks it's a blessing that the horses carrying their supplies and items didn't spook.

"Mors! Mors! It's alright man! What's the rush for?" Oberyn asks as he slips out of the litter, his reaction much faster than his older brother who was still taking a moment to rise.

"The maester, Maester Caleotte, received a letter in the night! It's from the king! The new one! He's on his way here!" The servant, Mors, shot Rhaella a look when he spoke of the "new king," almost as if he was afraid of offending her. She would of found that odd, yet she guessed based on appearance he was an old Martell bastard, and that Targaryens' in Susnpear must not be a new occurrence for him. 

"How long do we have?" Doran demanded as he finally made his way out of the litter.

"Three days? Maybe a little more? Maybe a little less? The maester was unsure. Not enough time to rally an army though." Mors answered defeatedly, his voice as desperate for an answer to the predicament as they all were.

"Okay. Thank you for informing us. Return to Maester Caleotte and tell him that myself, Mellario, Oberyn, and Rhaella Targaryen will be in his solar in just moments." Doran replied, trying his best to reassure his servant and preoccupy him. 

As soon as the litter crossed the castle gates and into the yard, Mellario and Rhaella were rushed out of the litter and toward the maester's tower. Rhaella didn't even get a chance to tell her son to pack or hide or watch his sister before Oberyn was by her side, pushing her along. She didn't even get a chance to breathe, before she was there, the door leading to the maester's solar propped open and bright with light from the high glass windows that dotted Sunspear.

"Ah Prince Doran! So I see Mors found you well enough." Maester Caleotte says brightly, his voice crackling into a cough towards the end of his sentence. "I apologize I couldn't come with you to the Water Gardens, I do hope you took care of yourself without me." 

In response Doran takes a seat, his joints seeming to bend slowly, like Doran is an old man and not the young man he truly is. At this, the bald, fat maester shoots Doran a look of disapproval. Though despite the disapproval, the maester's fluffy white eyebrows are crinkled in concern, a feeling that Rhaella herself is beginning to share. 

"Forgive my stubborn brother maester. We've had a long couple of days, and even without the excuses, Doran still refuses the milk of the poppy when he can." Oberyn replied to the kindly old man, his own disapproval and concern for his brother obvious.

"We can talk about my big brother any day though. Perhaps we can get to more important matters first." Oberyn continues, his concern transforming into anger.

"Ah yes," Maester Caleotte nods, shooting glances around the desk where they all have gathered. "I received this letter last night. It is written in a different hand than the signature at the bottom, so apparently Robert didn't write it himself. If he didn't write it himself, he probably won't be coming here by himself either so at least we have a hint at that. I-" 

"That's all well and good Caleotte, but how far away exactly is Robert and how long do we have to prepare for his arrival? Mors mentioned something about three days?" Oberyn cuts in.

"Well yes, see in his letter Robert writes that he has departed King's Landing by the time this letter was sent, and assuming that he is not bluffing, then I'd say that his voyage only has a few days left in it. As he hasn't entered Dorne's borders yet, as we'd know if he had, I'd assume he is in Cape Wrath or just about there. That's only three days away by boat." Maester Caleotte answered, obviously unfazed by Oberyn's interrupting

"Why would he tell us of his approach though? If he means to march upon us or attack by sea, it makes more sense for him to take us by surprise." Doran says thoughtfully.

"Well that's what I had thought at first as well, but it seems he, or whoever wrote the letter for him, wants to make peace. It's odd for them to give in so easily though, when they could easily kill us all." Maester Caleotte replies with a frown as he passes the letter around for them all to view.

"Could it be a false peace?" Rhaella suggests as she analyzes the letter that seemed to be penned in Jon Arryn's swirly hand.

"Perhaps. I would suggest gathering the small folk from the Shadow City just in case and perhaps calling the nearby bannermen just in case, as well as any able bodied men available in the castle." Maester Caleotte says, each word drawn out as he weighs his options on how they should head forward.

"How many soldiers do you think we could rally?" Oberyn asks sharply.

At this the maester bites his lip, uncertainty clouding his features. "Well... Before the start of the war we had forty-five thousand soldiers, roughly speaking, and Prince Lewyn took ten thousand of those soldiers with him to the trident... I'd say we could manage thirty thousand soldiers if we had the time. Since we only have three days however, I would say we could probably come up with five thousand? Maybe three thousand? Give or take?"

Oberyn gapes at the maester's response. "Only five thousand? Possibly only three thousand?! How is that possible?!" Oberyn demands.

Maester Caleotte looks wary of Oberyn's question and he's slow to answer at first. 

"Well I mean we have three thousand household guards stationed within the walls of the Water Garden and Sunspear, and a hundred or so of that number make up the city guard for the Shadow City. That's where I'm getting the definite three thousand from. As for the other two thousand, the only nearby houses are House Dalt of Lemonwood and House Toland of Ghost Hill. Neither of those two houses are your strongest bannermen, especially House Toland, and we'll be lucky if together they can round up two thousand soldiers." 

"What about the Orphans of the Greenblood?" Doran asks while his brother sighs his defeat.

"More of a hassle than anything, My Prince. While there are a few soldiers there worth picking up they're all scattered up and down the river. By the time the rider arrives with our message, actual fighters are found, and they return, Robert Baratheon will have already slaughtered us." Maester Caleotte answers with a desolate sigh.

"We should perhaps proceed with caution, if things are truly as bad as they sound. I would not suggest this if it were not a desperate time, yet I think we have no choice." Mellario begins with a sigh, making her husband interrupt with anger.

"Mellario..." Doran says dangerously, his statement conveying a warning that she seems to be the only one in the room to not understand. 

"No Doran!" Mellario shoots back sharply. "We must do what is best for the future of all our houses."

"What are you getting at?" Rhaella asks tiredly, done with her friend's cryptic statements that she seemed to be the only one not to understand.

Mellario visibly flinches at Rhaella's outburst, and Doran seems to sag even farther in his seat. Whatever it is they were discussing, they must be fearing her reaction.

"Due to the uncertainty of our position and what Robert Baratheon means to do when he visits, I had been planning on sending Mellario and my heir, Arianne, to Norvos. While in Norvos, Mellario and Arianne would be protected by Mellario's father, and if Robert made a move to unseat House Martell as leaders of Dorne, Arianne would have an army to take back her claim once she came of age. Mellario and I were also thinking that we'd have you and Viserys travel with them also, considering Viserys is the last crowned Targaryen king." Doran answers, his tired brown eyes managing to look even more worn and weary.

"What about Daenerys? What about Obara and Oberyn's children? What about Quentyn?" Rhaella shoots back fear creeping into her heart as she realizes what he's asking her to do.

Oberyn's hand on her own in not comforting for once and his sad smile doesn't reach his eyes as he tries to comfort her. "Rhaella... We all have to make sacrifices." 

His words should scare her, and in part they do, yet she is more angry than scared for once in her life.

"How dare you?! I will not be another Alyssa Velaryon! I will not pick between my children and leave one around to suffer and die like she did!" Rhaella rages at her husband and good-brother. 

"Rhaella, we are not asking you to choose between your children. We are simply saying that should Robert Baratheon decide to attack, Daenerys could hold more worth to him alive then dead. Viserys boasts no such claim. That's why we ask you accompany him away from here. By the time you leave, Robert won't even realize where you've gone." Doran replies patronizingly, almost acting as though her anger is so irrational it's not even worth his time to deal with.

"How could he not realize where we've gone? If he has any common sense he'll know that we were smuggled away with Arianne and Mellario! Also how could you possibly think that Daenerys would be safe if she fell into Robert's grasp?! Assuming he doesn't just murder her outright, he'll just keep her as a hostage at court where she'll be far from safety and any family who cares about her! Assuming she manages to ensure that and live long enough, he'll just pawn her off onto his son so he can have an heir that will destroy my son's claim and support his own's! As soon as she'd give his boy a son or two she'd be slaughtered! Where's the safety in that Doran?!" She rages bitterly.

"Look, Rhaella, no one wants to be in this situation! I mean, our children are in jeopardy too! Yet, despite this, we still must do what must be done!" Doran rages right back, finally reaching his breaking point.

At this, Rhaella finally turns onto Mellario. If her husband will not see reason, nor her goodbrother, than surely Mellario will.

"Surely you cannot condone this?! Surely you cannot condone leaving your young son like a blood offering to sate the gods?! Surely you cannot condone the murder of your own nieces?!" Rhaella finds herself raging incredulously to Mellario. Mellario was a mother too, she had to understand Rhaella's anger.

"I.. There's no other choice!" Mellario sobs, her face was written with pure distress. Rhaella had an arguement here, she had found the chinks in Doran's armor.

"There is always another choice. We will make another choice." She tells Mellario firmly, while the other woman sobbed fiercely.

"And how will you do that?" Oberyn asks, his face and voice absolutely unreadable to Rhaella. 

"I..." Rhaella found herself trailing off, despite all her talk of forging her own way. She needed to think quick and act quicker. "We shall use Robert's idiocy and Jon Arryn's age against them instead, and hide Viserys in plain sight." 

"Again, how will you do that?" Oberyn asks once more, his face still unreadable yet Rhaella is sure he's unimpressed.

"Before the war, when was the last time Ser Arthur visited?" She asked, purposely ignoring her husband's question.

"I don't see-" Oberyn began to protest before being cut off by his brother.

"Six." Doran responded quickly, his rage still present yet now hidden by his curiosity.

"Viserys has always been short and skinny, even when he was born. All my babes were. He's only eight now, but he could pass as six still." She said assuredly, her mind racing with thoughts about how she could possibly pull what she was thinking off.

"Be that as it may, Viserys doesn't look like Ser Arthur. Arthur had the same violet eyes as his sister, while Viserys's eyes are lilac. Not to mention, Viserys has silver-gold curls while Arthur's hair was as flat as a board and nearly as dark a brown." Oberyn countered, his voice challenging her to keep coming up with ways of making her lies work.

"There does exist paint that can dye hair darker, Oberyn, and my brother and I shared similar eye color, yet Rhaegar's eyes were still a different shade of purple. No one will notice the difference between lilac and violet. Also, well you said it yourself not long ago, no one looks at bastards north of Dorne. Neither Robert or Jon Arryn has ever seen Viserys before. They have no reason to care about a cupbearer named Arthur Sand." Rhaella answers back, adrenaline streaming through her veins from her impromptu lies and planning.

"A cupbearer in Dorne, or a cupbearer to the Prince of Dorne's wife? No matter what you think, if Viserys is here when Robert arrives then he will be slaughtered. Someone will recognize him. Even you must admit that with Mellario he will be safer." Doran challenges, making Rhaella's heart break. Viserys would be safer in Norvos, without a doubt, yet she still wanted him with her.

"Viserys will be safer as a cupbearer to Mellario of Norvos, I do admit that, which is why he'll be going with her." She says with a confidence that she surely doesn't feel.

"If you wanted Viserys disguised then you could of just asked. You did not need to make it seem like my plan was stupid." Doran replies with frustration.

"I do not just want Viserys disguised, but I also want Daenerys with him, as well as Quentyn and Oberyn's children." She says firmly. She will not let Mellario suffer what she has. She will not let Oberyn's children suffer because of their father's stupidity.

"That's impossible." Oberyn says with a shake of his head, something like shame and pity pooling in Oberyn's eyes.

"No it's not!" Rhaella insists. "There surely must be servants with blonde hair in Dorne with tiny daughters of their own! Find one you trust Doran, and a simple switch can be made. The same plan could be implemented for each of Doran's daughters! I mean, Oberyn, you said it yourself to Ned Stark! Your daughters do not look like you! And, if my Daenerys is seen as fit enough to travel at birth, then Quentyn can travel now!" 

"Obara's too old, and-" Oberyn begins to protest but Rheella cuts him off before he can even start.

"Obara can be a traveling companion to her cousin then! The plan could work for the rest of the girls though!" Rhaella shoots at her husband, answering his protests.

"It could work..." Doran says thoughtfully, though their is still suspicion in his sad, soft, mahogany eyes.

"It could, yet how will Robert react when your children are missing Rhaella but you are not? You will not be spared of his anger, and despite marrying into our House, no politics will save you from his rage." Oberyn asks dangerously, his tone as sharp as a Viper's fang.

"My children will not be missing, well not technically. Viserys will have fled to Lys with Ser Willem, on my command, and what Robert shall think is Daenerys shall be right by my side." She replied confidently, forcing herself to not flinch at her husband's tone as she'd done so many times with Aerys.

"And what will he think when my children are gone?" Oberyn asks once more, not satisfied by her answer.

"We would never disgrace our new king, Robert Baratheon, by seating him or having him in the same room as a bastard." She answers, a small, strained smile finding it's way on her face as she thinks of Robert Baratheon as a so called king. Steffon Baratheon had never liked power or being a lord, but it seemed that Steffon's son was nothing like his beloved father.

"You've thought this out, haven't you?" Doran asked with a resigned sigh.

"No. It will work despite my lack of forethought though, won't it?" She responded, her smile remaining on her lips.

"Aye it will work." Doran answered begrudgingly.

"Then let's get to work. Maester Caleotte may I suggest that you send someone out to the Greenblood merchants and see if any of the more honorable, reputable merchants would like the honor of taking Princess Mellario and her children to the port of Lorath? Or at least to Braavos?" Rhaella asks of the maester, her tone indicating her suggestion is more command than question.

Maester Caleotte shoots Doran a questioning look before he responds, making sure his true master actually agrees and isn't just trying to please her or get her to be quiet. When Doran gives him a slight nod that's barely perceivable to the human eye, the maester agrees hurriedly.

"Would you like me to write to Lord Dalt and Lady Toland as well, My Prince?" Maester Caleotte asks Doran, his stuttering apologies finally stopping when he doesn't have to worry about enraging the dragons of House Targaryen.

"That would be appreciated." Doran says with a faint nod, his voice rising slightly, most likely in pain, as he gets to his feet. 

"Well then. Let us prepare for war." Oberyn declares with a sigh.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! I hope you liked the chapter! I know it was delayed, but I hope you'll forgive that when you see how much work I put into the chapter and the next! I tried really hard on this chapter and I hope my efforts turned out okay. If you liked this chapter please leave a kudos and tell me what you think about the story! Also, just an FYI to you guys, because this was originally supposed to be two parts and it was so delayed I'll probably be posting the next chapter within the next few days. Thanks for reading and again, I hoped you enjoyed!


	10. The Calm Before the Storm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rhaella and Oberyn prepare their children for their departure.

After their meeting, Rhaella, Doran, Mellario, and Oberyn parted ways to go speak to their own children of their incoming fates, as well as to see to what needed to be done to prepare the castle for siege or whatever Robert Baratheon had planned for it.

When Rhaella arrived at Viserys rooms, she was surprised to find her young son crying.

"Viserys, what is wrong?!" Rhaella asked quickly as she swept her son into her embrace, muting his tears.

Instead of a replying, Viserys simply pointed across the room. 

Someone from their earlier council, most likely Oberyn, had ordered for hair dye to be sent to Viserys's rooms. So upon his bedside table simply sat two glass jars filled to the brim with dark brown coloring. It wasn't the first time Viserys had seen hair dye, and he was smart enough to know that the jars were meant for him. It meant he was in danger. It meant that he was going to need to hide. 

"Is Robert Baratheon coming to kill us, Mother?" Viserys asked softly, once all his tears were gone and he had pried himself away from his mother's loving embrace. His voice betrayed the fear that he would never tell her existed.

"Robert Baratheon is coming to Dorne." She answered simply, neither confirming or denying his fears, causing Viserys to cry once more.

"You're sending me away, aren't you? That's what the dye is for." Viserys accused angrily between shallow sobs.

"It is only for a little bit, love, just until things are at least a little safer. It shall be a great adventure though, and-" Rhaella tried to assure him, but was cut off by Viserys's sobs. She tried to use her kind words to show him she wasn't doing it willingly, but it was for the best. He had to understand that, at the very least.

"You're leaving me! Just like when Father made us leave and deserted us! Just like when Rhaegar left for the Trident to go fight for his stupid Lady Stark! Just like Elia and Rhaenys and Aegon had to be left behind and died for it!" Viserys screamed as he broke away from her embrace. For the first time Rhaella could ever remember, Viserys was truly angry. It was scary how similar to Aerys he looked like in anger.

"My son, surely you must understand-" She began again, only to be cut off by Viserys's hollow, bitter laughter.

"Oh I understand! I understand that everyone always leaves me! I'm tired of everyone leaving me! If Robert wants me dead so bad, then let me die! I'm tired! I'm tired of being left behind!" Viserys raged, his face contorted by grief and anger and a thousand other emotions. Rhaella wanted to weep herself. 

She had put too much on her son's shoulders and now here he was, only eight and pleading for death. Not even melancholic Rhaegar had been so weighed down at eight. It made Rhaella feel sick in shame and grief.

"Viserys, please don't speak so. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry! I am tired too! But my son, you must see why me must keep you safe! You are the last true dragon. Please my son, let me keep you safe." She sobbed at her son's feet, shame filling her as her last little boy glared down at her in pure rage.

Viserys's rage melted away as he gazed down at Rhaella. Instead, tears filled her boy's eyes. His legs gave way as he let his newest batch of tears flow, and he made no move to protest when Rhaella swept him into her arms. While he clutched at her desperately, Viserys managed to stutter in between sobs. 

"I'm... sorry... I'm... I'm..." Her boy gasped out, his sobs shaking him to the point where he was incomprehensible. 

"It's okay, love. It's okay." She assured him, managing to push down her own tears in favor of curing her son's own. 

It was only when Viserys's breath evened and he stopped clutching her dress like a lifeline did Rhaella bring the boy into his solar. Still too young to truly have any use of a solar, Viserys, it seemed had scattered his few toys in the room to make it more like a playroom. Seating her boy upon the finely carved oaken desk, Rhaella was careful to not set her son on his small, wooden figurine of the great dragon, Balerion, lest she break it.

When Rhaella came back into the room with the two jars of dye, a bucket of water, a towel, scissors to cut hair with, and a sad smile, she was greeted by the sight of her son clutching his figurine to his chest. With his bloodshot, lilac eyes shut tightly and his knuckles white from holding the figurine so tightly, Viserys almost appeared to be in prayer to the little dragon. Rhaella feared to speak. She didn't want to disturb the boy, yet when she approached him with the scissors in hand, Viserys opened his eyes. Wide and weary, Viserys's eyes told Rhaella how unprepared her son was to undergo such a transformation.

Rhaella had never cut her son's hair. Aerys had never let her, yet it was more than that. Viserys always had such beautiful silver-gold curls. She had feared that if she cut it too short when he was young that his curl would never come back, much like Rhaegar's hair had done when he was young. So, Viserys had always looked like his father, with his madly long hair, and his brother, who had always preferred his flat, silver hair to be long. Until today anyways. Today, Viserys wouldn't look a Targaryen anymore. The thought made Rhaella shudder.

When she cuts the first curl away, only snipping an inch or so of hair away, Viserys flinches. She can feel how tense her son is as she continues, can see how tightly his jaw is clenched when she finally cuts his hair down to his shoulders, and she wants to cry. 

She had asked too much of him. The Martells asked too much of him. The world asked too much of him. Her sweet second son didn't deserve this fate. He deserved a rebuilt Summerhall, and a pretty wife, maybe then newest Tyrell child, and a gaggle of children with his bright eyes and silver hair. He deserved to be away from politics, and for his brother to be a king. He deserved to have a niece and a nephew who he loved with all his heart, perhaps a little too much. He deserved a father who wasn't a mad man and a murderer. He and Daenerys deserved so much she wanted to weep.

When Rhaella finally cuts Viserys's hair short enough that it's not even to his shoulders, barely even at his ears, Viserys is shaking. His silver hair surrounds him and Rhaella is beginning to paint his hair. She assumes it's too much for her young son, because surely it must be, but her son shakes her off.

"Continue, Mother." Viserys says, his voice barely audible despite the silence in the room.

Rhaella does as her son commands, and when she's finally done Rhaella lets out a breath she didn't realize she had been holding in. Her son's hair is now a deep, dark brown and she almost weeps when it finally settles and her son dries it. He is still the same boy, the same Viserys, yet he looked so different already. 

He looks like he could be Oberyn's son, or perhaps Lewyn's.

The thought comes to her unwillingly. It was such a horrible thought to think. Viserys was her son, no one else's. 

Rhaegar had belonged to the realm, and in the end, he had proven who his father was, despite all of Aerys's claims against her. Viserys though... Viserys had been her's, even from the moment he was born. 

Born in King's Landing, Viserys Targaryen came into this world with an ease his elder siblings hadn't. He had been a big baby, much bigger than Rhaegar had been, and with so fair hair on his head it appeared as if he was bald. His lilac eyes appeared a darker shade of purple than what they weren't presently, though they were not violet or indigo. As babe's eyes tend to do, his eyes had shifted, though Viserys eyes shifted lighter rather than darker, more toward Aerys's lilac, rather than Rhaella's dark violet, much to her disappointment. She had been alone then, other than Maester Pycelle and some maids, but she hadn't minded much. Rhaegar had visited much later, with his pretty soon-to-be wife on his hip, but for the first few moments after the birth Viserys had been her's alone. Not a brother to the Silver Prince, or son to the Mad King, but just Rhaella's sweet little babe. 

Once the thought finds it's way into her skull though, she cannot shake it. It haunts her like a ghost, and while her son sits, trying to admire his reflection in a looking glass, she slips away. 

He looks like what her grandfather recalled his beloved uncle, Baelor Breakspear, looking like except without the dark brown eyes and darker skin. He looks like what she imagined Aegon would look like when he was older, his hair always seeming to be less silver but more a light brown that she always assumed would darken. He looks like what she once imagined her and Lewyn Martell's son would look like when they married, when she still had a childhood crush on him. He looks like what she could lose in the future if Oberyn dared to ever enter lie with her again.

"How is Viserys? Some maids came and said he didn't exactly take the hair dye well." Oberyn asks softly, making her jump, as he almost seems to pop out of nowhere.

"He's fine." She responds shortly, her anger at him from this morning not forgotten. She makes a move to return to her son, to leave Oberyn, yet she's stopped before she can.

"Rhaella, look I'm sorry. I didn't mean to offend you this morning. I want the best for him too, okay?" Oberyn replies as he grabs her arm, his voice harsh in it's obvious shame.

"Sure you do." She says with an unladylike, bitter snort as she wrenches her arm out his grasp. "I'll try to remember that when you and your brother sell him to Robert Baratheon."

"Do you truly think so lowly of me? Of my family?" Oberyn asks as he watches her turn to leave, his voice sounding more like a little boy who was just chastised rather than a grown man arguing.

"Once, I thought highly of House Martell, otherwise I wouldn't be here. Now though, I..." Rhaella proclaims, though she trails off, betrays her uncertainty. She had loved Lewyn and Loreza long ago. 

"Now though, what?" Oberyn asks, his eyes staring deep into her soul, trying to find an answer.

"Now though," Rhaella says, keeping her back turned. "I realize Dorne has debts to pay, and, well, I'm uncertain."

She marches back into Viserys room without giving Oberyn Martell another glance, her back straight and her eyes defiant. Despite escaping King's Landing and all the politics found their, Dorne, it seems, is it's own kind of viper pit.

She spends the rest of her day packing for Viserys and trying to make her son and daughter smile. Solemn and sad, Viserys would not crack for anything, yet Daenerys seemed to be all giggles when Rhaella brings her and her cradle to Viserys's room.

It astounds her how much Dany has grown in such a small amount of time. Though she's still tiny, Rhaella's little daughter grows stronger everyday, so strong that she's even beginning to crawl and can roll over with ease. Even Daeron, who had died older than Daenerys was now, had never accomplished such things.

Rhaella finds herself ignoring servants who are sent to tell her and Viserys that dinner is prepared as the night wares on, instead opting to send for snacks to be prepared for Viserys when he finally proclaims his hunger. It's so nice to spend time with her children after the turmoil of the past few weeks. With Daenerys giggling in her lap and Viserys pretending he's a mighty dragon like any child might, Rhaella feels an uneasy, temporary peace. For one night at least, she can pretend that she's far away from the war that looms near and that her children's future are secure in a realm ran by their beloved brother. 

She spends the night in Viserys's room, her son snuggled into her side with his now dark brown curls plastered onto his pillow and her daughter sleeping soundly in the small crib at her side. She, on the other hand, cannot sleep. She's haunted by memories of her son's life, and imaginings of his death, too much to truly find an easy rest. She fears losing her other children, now more than ever, as Rhaegar who always seemed so invincible is gone. When she does fall asleep, she finds her dreams are absolutely terrible.

She's at a wedding, that's obvious by the silver and gold decorations, yet who's wedding it is is uncertain. She sees a man who looks so much like Aerys that she fears she must be reliving marrying her brother for a moment, until she realizes they're not in the Great Sept of Baelor. The sept they stand in is blindingly white and the light that seems to be radiating off of it, makes Rhaella feel like she's going blind. A woman, who is indiscernible from the blinding light, obviously stands with the Aerys look alike before a now visible septon. She feels uneasy watching the septon, almost like she knows something will go wrong, and when she sees the septon pulls out a knife and stabs it straight into the Aerys's lookalike's heart she feels a strange panic filling her. The room they're in is quickly filling with blood, and she's screaming as she tries to wade through it to reach what looks like Aerys but she knows isn't. By the time she reaches the man though, he's no man anymore and his body seems to be slowly sinking under ankle high blood. She pulls the body into her arms and despite being absolutely covered in blood she can easily recognize the boy's face. You cannot easily forget your own son's face.

"Mother." Viserys says softly, his shaky hand rising to meet his mother's face but falling before he can complete the motion.

She screams when her son touches her and he is deathly cold. She screams and screams and screams. It is only when she tears her eyes away from her dead son to beg some one for help does she realize that the scene has shifted.

They're in a dark hall now, one Rhaella cannot recognize, and Viserys is not the only one who is dying. Men and women alike scream and beg their gods for mercy while their life's blood pool all around them. She can barely hear them though over the music. The Rains of Castamere scream through the hall, sounding eerie and harsh upon Rhaella's ears. She tries to scream over the sound but she cannot, yet she screams anyways, wildly hoping and praying that some kind of ally is nearby. She only stops when someone finally cuts her throat.

She finally awakens after that terrible act, her own screaming and the dreadful sound of The Rains of Castamere still ringing horribly in her ears. She's glad that in King's Landing she learned how to manage her nightmares without waking anyone, as she only truly notices anyone other than her children is nearby when they touch her.

"Rhaella, Your Grace, I'm afraid Oberyn Martell is at the door. He says its urgent." Ser Willem says softly as he awakens her, not even giving her a chance to reply before he's making toward the door.

Oberyn Martell strides into Viserys's room looking angry and sad, and Rhaella wonders if he's still mad about yesterday or if it's something else entirely. She cannot read her new husband and well as she would like to, even when she isn't shaken by terrible nightmares.

"What is it?" She asks quickly, forgetting her anger in her terror.

"Robert's been spotted not far away. He'll be here in a day, maybe less. We haven't much time." Oberyn proclaims quietly, obviously still painfully aware of the fact her children are still asleep. 

"I thought we had time." She practically spits angrily through her gritted teeth as she leads him out of the room.

"We all did. Apparently the raven sent by Lord Jordayne's castellan never arrived. Maester Caleotte seems to think it was shot down." Oberyn explains, his voice betraying his slight panic.

"Was a boat found then? Did the rider even make it to the Greenblood yet? What about the servants? What about the children?" She asks rapidly, trying to see what was done, if anything, so she could focus her attention on what needed done.

"We're working on finding servants who we can trust to do such important tasks, and ones willing to give up their children. Just in case something like this happened, we did send a rider in the night to the Greenblood, though if he arrived and found a ship is yet to be seen." Oberyn answers just as quickly, his mind working just as rapidly as hers.

"And what if no ship is found? Or the rider couldn't find one to do the task we ask?" Rhaella asks, her doubt about how they're going to pull any of this off growing by the second.

"The Greenblood is Dorne's busiest port. We always have ships from the free cities there. A ship will be found, even if the rider didn't find one in time. As long as the children and Mellario are gone when Robert arrives, that's all that truly matters." Oberyn replies with a snort.

"So you'd send them to the Greenblood without a ship there for them to meet? Isn't that dangerous?" She asks critically. She would not let Daenerys and Viserys leave to escape just to be captured once more. It would be better if they just died with her.

"Anywhere is better than here. Robert will no doubt be angry at their departure and assume they departed immediately. Perhaps it's even safer if we put them where he would never think to look, or right in front of his face, so we can buy ourselves some time." Oberyn answers, his mind for plots obvious.

"Perhaps, though I'd rather not risk them so. Speaking of risks, you said so far no servant would give up their children if they matched our children's profiles? That's grave indeed." She says, her fear creeping slowly into her heart as she thinks of hiding Viserys literally in front of Robert's face.

"It's not so much that the servants aren't willing to comply, as much as we haven't asked them too. Besides not having any idea how to ask people to do such things, we haven't had time. I spent all of my night helping my girls packing and making sure they knew what to do if something went wrong. And Doran... Well Doran did the same I'd expect, as well as saying goodbye to his wife." Oberyn explains, making Rhaella feel a bit of relief.

"So your girls are packed then? And ready?" She asks cautiously. "Also, when are we going to talk to the servants then?" 

"Yes, my children are all packed up. I'm assuming your children are as well?" Oberyn asks, waiting until her small nod answers him to continue. "Also, as soon as we can round up your kids and their things. As soon as that is done, we'll take them to Obara's room and proceed to Doran's solar."

She nods her understanding before turning, and allowing Oberyn entrance to Viserys's room. As soon as they enter she finds that Viserys, ever a heavy sleeper, is surprisingly wide awake. It takes one look at her and her husband from Viserys for him to understand.

"I'll get Dany." Viserys says with a sigh as he climbs out of bed.

It only takes a few minutes for Rhaella to find herself once again outside in the hallway, her arms filled with bags full of Viserys and Daenerys's clothes. Oberyn wastes no time rushing her children and herself to Obara's rooms, and even less time on letting her say goodbye to her children. She understands his panic, as it's the same kind as she feels, yet she resents the fact she doesn't get a chance to say goodbye. She couldn't live with herself if that was the last time she'd see her children as Daenerys and Viserys Targaryen.

After their swift departure, Rhaella finds herself following Oberyn to Doran's solar. She's more than a little surprised though when she finds the door wide open, which seems to be due to the room being filled to the brim with women and children. It takes Rhaella and Oberyn both a minute just to make their ways to their seats, and they both jostled more than once on their way there. Once they're seated, Doran wastes no time on beginning the meeting.

"Nice of you two to finally join us." Doran says sarcastically as Rhaella eyes the little crowd in the solar. 

"Sorry for the delay, brother. We had to finish packing for Rhaella's children." Oberyn replies sharply, his stress making him even more short-tempered than usual.

The way Doran eyes them both, Rhaella can tell he has other ideas about what they were doing, yet he nods and continues anyway. Rhaella would smack him if she could reach him.

"Ah. Well, without a further ado, meet the servants who shall be taking your children to Norvos." Doran says with an emphatic wave of his hands.

"Perhaps you could specify?" Rhaella responds as she scans the room, noting all the women present who could pass as her children's mother.

"Of course, my apologies. Let us begin with your children, Rhaella." Doran answers with a slight nod, the signal for the woman to stand forward.

The servant that steps forward is a kind looking woman, and is most definitely younger than Rhaella. Though she does wear weariness and wrinkles upon her face, the woman's dark blue eyes are youthful and kind. She also possesses platinum blond hair, an indication that if she is Dornish, she must be a Stony Dornishwoman. Even more intriguing about the woman though is the children that hide carefully behind their mother's skirts.

Though the two kids try to hide behind their mother, they do a poor job of doing it. Rhaella can see two dark haired girls, both having the same violet eyes as the man who must be their father. It's odd to see Ser Arthur's image in these children, especially since his own true born nephew, who's father had been Arthur's brother and looked exactly like Arthur, didn't look anything like him. She's glad Rhaegar's dear friend and companion still lived on in a way, despite his sins in the end. Rhaella, more out of duty to Rhaegar than Arthur, would have to keep an eye out for these children.

"May I present Allia Sand, Your Grace, and her two daughters, Ash and Alli." Doran says while the woman, Allia Sand, gently urges her children to greet the queen. "She shall be taking Viserys and Daenerys both."

"She's taking both of them? Isn't that dangerous?" Oberyn cuts in before Rhaella can question either Doran or Allia.

"Considering Allia is the one of the only servants in Dorne with fair hair and skin, we do not have much choice. Also, as soon as they board the ship they should be fine. We just need someone to take them away from Robert." Doran answers, his impatience at his brother's questioning slipping into his usually calm voice.

"May I ask where is the replacement for Daenerys? As far as I see, the girl only has two children." Rhaella questions Doran as she looks the two girls over, trying to find any obvious differences between them and Viserys besides gender.

"Well, m'lady, I only have two of my daughters with me, ya see. My other daughter, Arin, is napping in my rooms right now. She's only a bit older than your babe, if what m'lord Doran says is true." Allia says, surprising Rhaella as she does. She hadn't expected the girl to have the courage to speak.

"Okay. Well, not to be rude, but obviously the girl cannot look like Ser Arthur, your other children's father. Since she must have a different father, she must look different. If I may ask, what does your last daughter look like?" Rhaella asks gently, trying her best to not upset the woman by mentioning Ser Arthur.

"My last little girl looks like me, m'lady. She's got my light hair, dark blue eyes, and nothing of her father." Allia answers with a laugh, obviously not offended at all by Rhaella's remarks.

"And if I may I ask, who is the girl's father?" Oberyn asks cautiously, his mind obviously filled with different Dornish lords who could father such a girl.

"My new husband m'lord! He's dark like you, y'see, but I think some of that's more due to always being in the sun as a sailor more than anything." Allia replies with a smile of fondness, her love for her husband obvious to all.

"Okay. I'm sure you're aware, but I must remind you, what we're asking requires that you leave your youngest here to masquerade as my daughter, the Princess Daenerys. Are you still sure that you want to do this?" Rhaella asks, as she couldn't forgive herself if she was the one who forced a mother, like herself, to leave her child.

"I do, Your Grace." The girl replies, though she hesitates slightly. "The Martells took me in when I had no one else, and if this helps them then I'll gladly do it. I'd trust no one else with my child but them. They're good people, m'lady." 

The girl's proclamation is a shock, and Rhaella wonders what the girl had to face to have such respect for her lords. Rhaella shivers at what she suspects, and if they had the time, she'd like to offer the girl some comfort. They might from completely different backgrounds, yet that didn't mean they didn't know the same pains. 

"As long as you're sure, that's all that matters." Rhaella says with a kind smile and a nod while Allia slips her way back into the background. In reward for her kindness, she's given a sweet smile from Alia's daughters.

"Now, the servants who shall be taking Oberyn's children." Doran called, causing three people of varying ages, races, and genders to step forward.

The first to step forward was a wizened old woman, who seemed to walk with an air of knowledge surrounding her. Though the woman was now obviously blind, Rhaella could see the original coloring of the woman's eyes, a blinding blue that seemed to be the same color as a cloudless sky. With her paler skin and shiny silver-gray hair, Rhaella didn't doubt that this woman was a Stony Dornishwoman also.

"M'lords. M'ladies." The old woman coughs out through her little remaining teeth.

"Rhaella, I present to you, Mére. She's like a grandmother to all those who reside in Sunspear." Oberyn presents, his voice filled with fondness.

"Nice to meet you Mére." Rhaella says with a smile, though she supposes it's dumb to smile. It's not like the woman could see it.

"It's nice to meet you too, m'lady. It's nice to see that someone could finally get little Oby to settle." Mére says with a chuckle, which causes Oberyn to flush in embarrassment.

"Mére!" Oberyn reprimands lightly, his voice holding no true reproach.

"Don't Mére me boy! You know it's true!" Mére fires back, her voice full of motherly reproach, before settling once more. "Anyways, I'll be taking little Tyene under my wing during the voyage, and most likely looking over all the children as our journey advances."

Doran nods, though how the woman picks up the signal to leave, Rhaella has no idea. She does know though that Mére was not a woman to be trifled with, and could prove a great asset to Rhaella when it came to children and Rhaella's husband. Her sharp, no-nonsense talking reminds Rhaella of her own fierce grandmother, which while making her sad also makes her smile. If only Betha Blackwood had survived Summerhall. She'd never let Aerys and his madness lead to anything this bad, and if it still did she'd be more than a comfort to have in Dorne. Fierce and stubborn, Betha Blackwood would have been very successful in a place like Dorne.

The next servant to step forward is a woman of obvious Sandy Dornish descent. The woman, who eyes Oberyn like a piece of meat, is very young and very pretty. With silky, black hair and dark, flawless skin, the girl appeared to be like one of those goddesses of the Summer Isles that were dedicated to beauty and sex. Rhaella couldn't see how anyone could doubt that little Nym, who was in the process of being half a goddess herself, came from a woman of such beauty.

"My name is Ellaria Sand. My father is the Lord Harmen Uller, the lord of Hellholt. I came to Dorne as a maidservant to Princess Mellario not long after the war broke out. I'll be taking Oberyn's daughter, Nymeria, with me to Norvos." The woman says silkily, her voice sounding melodic to Rhaella's ears. 

"I thank you, my lady. You're doing a great honor to House Martell and your service won't be forgotten." Oberyn replies as he gazes upon Ellaria with such lust and wanting. It seemed Nymeria wouldn't be the only Martell bastard she'd be carrying with her to Norvos if Oberyn gets his way. 

"My service won't be forgotten? Surely that means I get a reward then..." Ellaria flirts deviously, causing Rhaella to rage. She didn't care that Oberyn wanted to bring this woman into what would be considered their bed. He could do whatever or whoever he wanted. She just hated that he had to shame her like this in public. Aerys had shamed her so quite often.

"Of course, my lady." Oberyn says breathily, again causing Rhaella to roll her eyes. 

It's only at Doran's uncomfortable coughing does Oberyn stop undressing the woman with his eyes and sends her away. With Lady Sand away, Oberyn returns to his senses and has the courtesy to appear ashamed. He isn't given any chance to resume his conversation with the lady or to apologize before Doran calls the last servant forward.

The last servant to be called forward is not a woman for once, but rather is a great brute of a man instead. Dressed heavily in armor with a heavy battle axe upon his back, Rhaella vaguely remembers the dark man to be the sworn sword of Doran Martell. Tall and broad, he's an imposing figure, yet it's obvious he's not a Dornish fighter. Even without a spear, a weapon which is used almost exclusively by the Dornish, the man's obvious lack of Dornish background is his skin. His skin is a rich dark brown that indicates he's not Dornish, but perhaps a man of the Summer Isles or even a darker man of Norvos. The last option probably made the most sense. He probably came to Dorne to protect Mellario.

"My name is Areo Hotah. My axe is sworn to Prince Doran and Princess Mellario. I shall be taking Prince Oberyn's youngest daughter to Norvos as Prince Doran commands." The younger man proclaims in an almost indecipherable accent. He was definitely from Norvos, unless Rhaella's ears deceived her, yet he his voice was so deep it was hard to tell for sure. Either way, the man would be a good fit for Sarella's fake father.

"Yes, thank you. I appreciate your service, Areo, more than you know." Doran replies, obviously comfortable with this man taking his niece as his. He must be quite close to Prince Doran to inspire such trust. "I thank you all for your service, truly."

Rhaella barely hears Doran dismiss his servants before she's out of her seat, making her way to Viserys and Dany. They have an hour or so to say their goodbyes and she will not waste it. 

"Rhaella! Wait up!" Oberyn calls up to her, while he tries to hurry and catch up. She purposely walks faster just because of this.

"Rhaella, just give me a chance to apologize!" He calls to her, obviously misunderstanding her hurry to see her children as anger towards him. She is angry at him, she wouldn't deny that, yet she cannot focus on her anger when she only has an hour to her children. They matter more than anything.

Rhaella is surprised when Oberyn reaches her. She had been hurrying as fast as she could in her dress, yet it didn't seem it was fast enough. His hand latches onto her, snapping onto her as tightly as a viper's mouth as it sinks it's fangs into its prey. 

"What?!" She asks frustratedly, her fury and anxiety causing her to snap.

Oberyn has the courtesy to look ashamed at her outburst, which surprises Rhaella. Oberyn isn't exactly the kind of man who'd be apologetic in his love of women.

"I'm sorry Rhaella. I've known Ellaria for a time, and we've had, well, quite a past. I didn't mean to cause offense." Oberyn rushes to explain, his words slipping out in a flurry of frustration and shame.

"Do you really think I care about who you fuck Oberyn?" She rages quietly, her voice barely more than a whisper. Despite the quietness though, her words still cause Oberyn to flinch. "Bring whomever you want into your bed. Just do not presume to shame me in front of your brother or good sister ever again! Do not even presume to shame me in front of anyone else ever again!"

"Rhaella I wasn't trying to shame you. I promise I wasn't! I just-" Oberyn begins to explain once more, only to be cut off by Rhaella's bitter laughter.

"You weren't trying to shame me, but you did all the same! Gods, you sound like Aerys with his whores." She says bitterly. "He always made excuses for why he had them, not that I really cared. His excuses and my lack of love for the man didn't matter at court where ladies and lords would laugh and mock me behind my back." 

Oberyn looks pained and incredulous at the fact that Rhaella compares him to her late husband, but Rhaella could care less. All men were like Aerys in the end, just not all of them were to the same degree of madness as her late husband.

"Rhaella, tell me what I can do to make this right. Please." Oberyn asks, his feigning of genuine concern so real yet fake that it makes Rhaella laugh.

"Neither of us wanted this marriage, Oberyn, so do not pretend you care whether or not you wrong me." Rhaella responds with a mirthless laugh as she rips her arm away from his grasp. "Just let me go see my children while you see yours."

Oberyn bows his head at her proclamation and they continue to Obara's room in an angry silence. Oberyn avoids her eye like a chastised child and Rhaella wants to truly rage at him. He was supposed to be kind. He promised he was not to be Aerys, even if neither of them wanted this, and yet he was still just a man in the end. She should know better to trust anyone but herself.

Once they enter Obara's room, Rhaella finds herself and Oberyn being tackled by their little crowd of children while they shout Mother and Father at the top of their lungs. 

"Mother!" Viserys almost tackles her as she scoops him up into her arms. He is getting too old for such a thing, but Rhaella can't bring herself to care. He's still small enough for her to pick up, and that's all that truly matters.

"Hello, my son." She greets as she peppers him with kisses before setting him down once more.

Rhaella spends the next hour listening to her son babble about this or that, soothingly rocking Daenerys gently in her arms and watching as Oberyn's daughters dance and running around him excitedly. There is anxiety in her heart as she watches the warm scene, yet she cannot show it. Instead she gives them all warm smiles, even Oberyn's daughters, and asks about whatever they're rushing to tell her about. She listens to Obara and Viserys chatter excitedly about some game they were playing, watches as Nymeria shows her a dance she and Tyene came up with, and scoops up both Daenerys and Sarella when either fusses. She does want to be so angry with Oberyn that she'd turn away his daughters but she knows she cannot. They did not choose their father, after all, and Rhaella unwillingly finds herself falling for Oberyn's sweet daughters more and more every time she sees them.

Oberyn, despite his flaws, is a good father. He pretends to be a giant monster when Obara and Viserys involve them in their games and dramatically dies when they proclaim him slain. He lets little Nymeria try to braid his rather short hair, and doesn't make any move to protest when Tyene puts a plastic crown upon his head and declares him her King consort. He manages to make Daenerys and Sarella giggle breathlessly when he tickles them both mercilessly. Even though she is angry at him, Rhaella Targaryne cannot deny the fact that Oberyn Martell is a good father, and should they both live after Robert's arrival, he will be a much better father to Daenerys than Aerys could ever of been.

When their hour with their children is up, Rhaella and Oberyn are alerted to the time by all the servants of earlier bringing with them servants attire and their children. The servants' arrival is mournful and Rhaella forgets her rage in her sadness. She is not ready to say goodbye to her children. 

Daenerys and Oberyn's daughter don't require much effort to change, yet Rhaella's heart sinks when her daughter falls asleep and appears similar to the woman who will be taking her away. Her disguise is small, yet convincing and Rhaella would weep if she didn't need to be strong for Viserys.

Viserys is absolutely unrecognizable to those who don't know him when dressed in the humble outfit of a cupbearer, and Rhaella should be glad that he fits in so we'll but she isn't. She cannot let herself be.

"What is your name, boy?" She demands as she finishes buttoning her boy's ragged vest.

Viserys balks at her question for a moment. "I'm Viserys, Mother. Who else would I be?" 

"You cannot be Viserys if you want to live, boy." She chastises lightly as she finishes the last clasp. "So, what is your name?" 

Viserys bites his lip in uncertainty before answering. "Arthur Sand, Your Grace."

"You must answer quicker if Robert sends a spy to you, love. Also you must speak like you are less educated. Now again." She says firmly.

"My name is Arthur Sand, m'lady. My father was the famous knight Arthur Dayne." Viserys answers, this time without hesitation.

"Good." She says as she wraps him in her embrace. "Now, if anything happens to me..." She begins before being cut off by Viserys.

"Nothing will happen to you, Mother. I will not allow it!" He says fiercely, reminding Rhaella of another little boy long ago who asked about his mother's bruises and his father's rage.

"You do not know that, love, so you must listen." She says solemnly as she holds onto him even tighter. "If anything happens to me and House Martell, you must be strong. You will be the head of our house then, and King. You cannot afford to be weak. Keep Dany safe if something happens, and make sure to listen to Mellario and Ser Willem. They are the only people you can trust."

When she lets Viserys out of her grasp, she can tell the boy wants to cry. Tears shine bright in her boy's lilac eyes, but he does not allow them to fall. Instead her boy moves away to allow her to scoop Dany into her arms, give her one final kiss, and then place her into his own waiting grasp. His shoulders are straight and his jaw is clenched. Her son is more a king in this moment than he's ever been.

Despite being known for his fierceness and fearlessness, Oberyn is holding back tears as he gives his children each one last hug. The pain of what could be his last goodbye is written upon his face, and his daughters are no better. All of them, except Obara, are weeping as their father clutches them to him desperately. It's a pain Rhaella and her children know all too well.

"Be strong my little viper." Oberyn tells his oldest daughter fiercely, wiping away the few tears that have made their way out of her eyes. "Keep your sisters safe and your new siblings safe too. Viserys is your king now. If something happens, remember House Martell's words."

"I'm not a Martell though, Father." Obara squeaks out, for once not looking as fierce as her father, but rather the little girl she was.

"You are. You are my daughter, even if your name is Sand." Oberyn says fiercely, his voice strong and firm.

"I love you Father." Obara manages to choke out as her Father brings her into one last embrace. She must not expect them to live. Obara was never so emotional.

"I love you too." Oberyn says softly as he lets his daughter go. 

Obara breaks away from her Father's grasp and doesn't look back. There are tears streaming down her face like a river, but she doesn't look back. Her spine is as straight and rigid as a spear, and when she walks of of the room Rhaella is reminded of another Dornish girl's quiet fierceness. She might be Oberyn's daughter, and act like him as a result, but there was a little of her aunt Elia in her too.

Obara leaves first, heading toward her cousin Arianne's room, only to be followed closely by each of her sisters. As the respective servants come and pick up the girls, Rhaella can see Oberyn's shoulders slowly sinking and the tears in his eyes coming closer and closer to falling. Rhaella has lost children before, yet for Oberyn the feeling is still new. She would pity him if she could, but she knows Oberyn would detest such a thing. Instead, she grips his hand tightly. She might have been angry with him before, but that didn't mean she couldn't be kind. 

Viserys gives her one last forlorn glance over his shoulder when Allia Sand comes to take them away, and Rhaella can see her son's pain. Her little boy didn't deserve to know such pain as this. He was only a boy, even if he was a king.

Allia Sand gives Rhaella a quick little nod as she takes little Daenerys into her arms, and let's Rhaella take her own daughter. She is pretty young lady, and sadness and fear only serve to make her more beautiful. Rhaella can only hope that such pain will keep her loyal. The girl seemed genuine, though anyone can betray anyone, but Rhaella would not forgive herself if she put her children in the care of someone who would gladly sell them for the right price.

When Allia leaves with her son and daughter in tow, Oberyn takes Daenerys's replacement and puts her in Sarella's little crib, finally allowing Rhaella a chance to weep. Her chest aches harshly from heartache, her sobs echoed in the room, mournful and loud, and when Oberyn holds her to his chest, a little too tightly, Rhaella doesn't protest. They share a similar grief, and Rhaella knows they both need the support of the other. So, Rhaella clutches onto her new husband's doublet unapologetically and soaks it with tears, Oberyn meanwhile weeps quietly into her hair. Together, they show their heartache, and with every tear they harden their hearts. Robert Baratheon would be in Sunspear tomorrow, and then they would not have time for tears.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! I'm so sorry for the delay but this chapter got way longer then I intended it too, and I also had to decide whether or not to include Robert's arrival in this chapter. In the end, due to the huge length, I decided I'll be uploading the chapter featuring Robert's arrival in the next couple days. I also got kind of little too into writing Rhaella and Oberyn together so you can blame he delay on that too. Their dynamic is just so unique! Anyways, I do hope that you enjoy this chapter though, and if you enjoyed I highly suggest leaving a comment and a kudos! It will be really appreciated! Thanks again for reading and make sure to keep your eye out for the next chapter!


	11. A Meeting of Peace and War

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dorne makes haste in preparing for Robert's arrival.

Sunspear was in absolute chaos as every man, woman, and child did what they could to prepare for war.

Rhaella and Oberyn were not excluded from such things, and managed to offer important council and leadership, though how they did so was very different. Rhaella, despite not having much of a head for war, was involved in every war council Doran and Oberyn managed to hold in such short time. She spoke little, but when she did Doran and Oberyn both took what she said into consideration. She had lived through the most wars, so she was considered the leading expert on how to make sure the small folk were orderly taken into the castle and protected. It was the first time in years that anyone had ever took what she had said seriously. 

Rhaella also found that she was in charge of bringing the smallfolk into the castle, and seeing that they were settled. She had the most knowledge on invasion, so it seemed an obvious role for her to fill, yet it was a much harder task than it seemed. The people of the Shadow City that made its home around Sunspear's walls were as anxious as she was about what was yet to come, something that, while understandable, also made it very hard to round them up and get them to settle into the makeshift quarters the guards put up in the yard. Upon seeing that their Queen was there to help them, and that the highborn actually seemed to care about their fate, they seemed to settle some.

Oberyn, meanwhile was the leader on all things war. Rhaella had never seen him quite so vocal, which was saying something as he usually was vocal. During their war councils with Doran, Oberyn never seemed to stop speaking. He was either coming up with a plan, talking possible strategies of attack, or critiquing his brother's formations. The only time he seemed to be quiet down was when his brother shut down his plans for being too rash, and he'd soon argue with Doran if he thought he was in the right. Doran's knowledge on strategy and defense was no surprise, but Oberyn matching his brother's wit and surpassing it when it came to offense and actual battle surprised Rhaella more than she could say. It became more understandable though when she realized he had studied warfare at the citadel, and had managed to quickly form a link of his chain in the subject, something that usually took years to do.

Upon the ending of their councils and the agreement of which tactics to use if worst came to worst, Oberyn remained a leader in anything that would be considered military. He organized the defense of Sunspear's walls, decided exactly how to hide the archers in the castle so they could get a clear shot on the King but not be seen, set up a clear escape route for the highborn nobles in the castle and the lowborn, and he managed to round up and drill troops on top of everything. Rhaella was quite sure she had never seen him so in his element. Full of passion and confidence, Oberyn made his way around to every soldier and guard he'd be leading, offering them comfort and assurance that everything would go smoothly as well as appreciation for their sacrifices toward the safety of Dorne. He was a natural born leader, and the people loved him for it.

 

When the time came for Doran to finally throw in the towel and finally decide nothing else could be done, Rhaella found herself yearning for sleep that she knew would never come. She was too anxious for Robert's arrival. Though she dreaded meeting the man who'd killed her son, in a way she also was excited. It was like she almost wanted this to lead to war. Rhaella knew it was her want for revenge against her son's killer that made her feel so, yet she couldn't force herself to feel guilty. He was Steffon's son, once, and yet... She wanted to see Robert suffer as she had, and this seemed her best chance for her to see it done. 

Rhaella had been as close to sleep as she imagined she'd get that night when a painfully loud knock jolts her awake. Fear and adrenaline cause her to rush from bed, yet she hesitates when she reaches the door. She cannot know what she will find when she opens the door. Robert could of attacked them in the night and no one raised the alarm. The Martells could have sold her out in the night. A traitor could of-

"Rhaella? Are you in there?" The sound of her husband's voice interrupts Rhaella's thoughts, causing Rhaella to jump. 

"Yeah. Why?" She asks after letting out a breath she hadn't realized she was keeping in. She doesn't open the door yet though. She has to make sure he's not here to sell her out, however unlikely as that is.

"I... It was too quiet in my rooms. If you'd, if you'd have me..." Oberyn stutters out awkwardly. Within his first sentence, Rhaella is opening the door. She knows what he means all too well.

"Come in."

Oberyn isn't the type of man to be cowed by much, yet when he enters the room shaky and uncertain even Rhaella can see how terrified he is. 

"I'm sorry to intrude on you so late. I just couldn't sleep and I figured if anyone understood why, it was you." Oberyn says awkwardly, his gaze stuck to the floor. "If you want, I can sleep in your solar or on the floor. I just didn't want to be alone."

"That's... Well, I mean... There's no need for that." Rhealla manages to squeak out, hating herself for making it sound so awkward.

Rhaella doesn't give Oberyn a chance to respond after her proclamation, but rather makes her way back to bed assuming Oberyn will follow suit. She had no love for her husband, but it would be cruel to ask him to sleep on the floor after he went out of his way to seek her out.

Oberyn is slow to get into bed, waiting until Rhaella is completely settled before he finally just sits down. After that, it isn't long before Oberyn is laying at her side, very obviously trying not to touch her, but not asleep. Her new husband, rather, stares up at the ceiling blankly. His dark eyes are strained in the darkness as he searches the ceiling for answers he'll never have to questions Rhaella can't begin fathom. She turns to try and feign sleep, though she's stopped when Oberyn awakens her once more with a question.

"Do you think they suffered, Rhaella?" 

Rhaella doesn't have to ask her husband who the they is that he speaks of. She's haunted by Aegon, Rhaenys, and Elia more than her husband could know.

"I hope not, but I also am not a fool. It's best not to think upon what they endured, I think." Rhaella answers back, her voice little more than a whisper. 

Her husband turns to her then, closer to her than they've been since their wedding night, with a ferocity in his eyes that manages to be apparent to Rhaella in the darkness of night. Her husband is fiercely angry, though whether it is at her or the world, Rhaella cannot tell.

"We're going to make them pay, Rhaella. All of them. The Mountain, Ser Armory, Tywin Lannister, Jaime Lannister, and Robert Baratheon. They're going to pay. They're going to see what it's like to lose all that they love." Her husband proclaims fiercely, his voice low in rage and grief. His obvious lust for vengeance would be terrifying if Rhaella didn't feel it as well.

"And how will we do that?" She asks curiously, because she genuinely doesn't know how they will make vengeance a reality.

"With fire and blood." Oberyn answers shortly and surely before he turns his back to her.

After Oberyn's sudden proclamation of revenge, Rhaella find that sleep eludes her even more than before. Perhaps Oberyn had thought it would be a comfort, to know someone wanted all those men to die as much as she did, but all it did was make her think of her grandchildren's fate. Somehow though, after hours of being haunted by her grandchildren and how they died, she manages to fall asleep.

Rhaella's sleep is far from restful, rather, it's haunted by a multitude of terrors.

Faces swirl, things become indistinct, but somethings stay the same. Rhaella is in the Throne room, with Daenerys in her arms. Her sweet daughter, who hardly weeps in real life, seems to be in immeasurable pain or sorrow as she won't stop bawling. Fat tears and wails of anguish ripple through the still air as Daenerys screams, and Rhaella feels anxiety well up in her chest with each cry. They are in danger, that's obvious, and the threat must loom nearby for Rhaella to be this scared. Yet despite all the kind words of comfort that pass by her lips, Daenerys just won't stop. Her cries echo and echo, causing Rhaella to shudder, until stopping abruptly when the door is ripped open violently.

The man who enters through the door hidden behind the terrible, cruel Iron Throne is a man she knows well. At first, it seems to be simply her brother, his young face still kind and sweet. As he comes closer though, his face becomes more gaunt and his lilac eyes darken in violent madness and lust. His screams of rage are shrill and his fists loom over Rhaella while she tries to shield her daughter from her father's rage.

"You never mourned me sister! Sweet sister, whore wife, why don't you mourn me?" Aerys screeches, the threat of his blow looming close, causing Rhaella to weep.

"I'm sorry. Please, Aerys, I'm sorry!" Rhaella cries back, twisting her face and hiding her eyes as if the darkness will stop the blow. It is only opening her eyes does she realize that her deranged husband is gone and that his fist will not fall. Instead, the scene shifts and she now hides in a bedchamber full of darkness and shadows while a different man stands in front of her, a skinny man with pig eyes.

"Please, Ser, you must help me. My daughter and I-" Rhaella begins, only stopping upon realizing that the man held a knife in his grasp, and that it was covered in blood. "Ser?"

"Stop crying!! I'm one of your Father's men. It will be alright, Princess." The pig man's voice is creaky and harsh upon Rhaella's ears. "Come here, it will be okay."

Rhaella doesn't understand. Who is this man and why does he call me Princess? I am the Queen. She doesn't understand, not at all, until the man approaches and seems to grow ten feet taller. Daenerys isn't in her arms anymore, just a stuffed cat, and Rhaella knows all too well who the man is.

"Mama!! Papa!!" Rhaella screams desperately, her voice not her own but of her sweet granddaughter's. "Papa!! Please!!"

The pig man, Ser Armory Loche, brandishes his knife with terrible ease, and when he twists his arm so the blade can fall in one even motion, Rhaella closes her eyes. She cannot bear to see Rhaenys's last moments.

The blade, much like Aerys's fist, never falls though. Instead, when Rhaella opens her eyes she is back in a bedchamber with a babe in her arms. They are hidden in the corner of the room, the bed allowing her and her child to be hidden from the hulking giant that stalks the room.

The man, who appeared more a mountain than man, was Ser Gregor Clegane. Rhaella would have to be an idiot to not know what would happen next.

The man, who was knighted by Rhaegar's own sword, lumbered around the room with an odd sort of lackadaisical attitude. Though he was ripping the room apart, he did it slowly and with an odd sort of joy. It seemed almost like a game to him. A game that is ruined by Aegon's mewling.

"Come out, come out, wherever you are." The Mountain sings stupidly, his voice heavy with bloodthirsty glee. He's so close she can smell him.

"Found ya." The Mountain whispers moments before lumbering to the corner he knew Rhaella to be hiding.

The Mountain flashes her a wide smile full of yellow teeth as he bends down to rip Aegon from her arms. 

Make it stop, make it stop, make it stop. Please, please, please, make it stop. 

Rhaella can't help but plead as she tightly shuts her eyes, refusing to see her grandsons' last moments. Her closed eyes don't stop her from hearing though, and the sickening crunch she hears, along with the Mountain's laughter, paints a vivid enough picture.

Rhaella's howl of grief is hollow and filled with rage, which causes the Mountain laugh even harder than before. 

"Lord Tywin didn't say nothin bout you, but that doesn't matter. He won't mind." The Mountain laughs and laughs, approaching only when it's obvious Rhaella won't put up a fight. 

Rhaella opens her eyes only to see the man's face one last time, to memorize every disgusting feature of the creature that killed her family, so that she might die with black rage in her heart rather than overwhelming fear and grief. Her rage only pauses truly, when a voice interrupts their stare down.

"You're alright. You're alright." 

The sound of her husband's voice jolts Rhaella wide awake, giving her a chance to realize that she was being held by her husband, and that it was still dark out. Dark enough to mean that they still had an hour or so to sleep. Dark enough to mean that she had woken Oberyn up in her panic.

"I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to wake you..." Rhaella manages to squeak out embarrassedly when she finally gets enough of her breath back that she can talk. 

"You don't need to apologize. I was worried. You were shaking terribly and muttering so... I was about to get the maester, but I stopped when I saw you were waking." Oberyn replies soothingly, while Rhaella finally realizes that while comforting her Oberyn has wrapped himself protectively around her.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make you worry." Rhaella apologizes quietly, slightly appreciating the contact of another person. 

She did not love her husband, nor did she trust him, yet he was kind. She had lost all hopes for love a long time ago, so she didn't really mind it's absence. She had always longed for kindness though, and now that she had it... Well, it would be an understatement to say she appreciated it more than her husband, or anyone really, would understand.

"You do not need to apologize Rhaella," Oberyn chastises lightly. "You cannot control what I worry about." 

Oberyn begins settling back into bed, ending the conversation. Rhaella follows his example with only a bit of hesitation. She finds that laying in the darkness, a question gnaws on her. She hesitates to even ask, as she fears the answer, yet she feels she must.

"Oberyn, did you... Did you hear what I was muttering about? Do you know what I was dreaming about?" She asks unwillingly, very glad that the darkness hides the fact she won't meet her husband's eye.

"I heard a few things..." Oberyn admits quietly, turning in the darkness to face her. "I didn't hear all though. Would you.. Would you like to talk about it?" 

Rhaella hesitates then, a blush burning onto her cheeks. She does not want to talk about how she feels or what she dreams. Oberyn, for all his kindness, wouldn't understand. Her dreams were different than normal dreams. No normal man or woman without dragons blood would understand.

"It was.. Just... Elia y'know? And the children..." Rhaella trails off in fear of upsetting Oberyn. "I can't get the thought of what happened to them out of my head."

"That's what I had thought." Oberyn says with a voice thick with grief, offering his arms to her kindly. Thankfully, he was letting the subject drop.

Oberyn's arms are comforting and falling asleep in them are a surprising ease. So, in the few remaining hours until Robert Baratheon's arrival Rhaella slept surprisingly well, her husband quiet beside her. Rhaella's usual nightmares evaded her, and her less severe dragon dreams as well. It felt like the first time in years that she wasn't weighted down by grief, awake or asleep.

"Your Grace? Your Grace?" The small voice of one of Rhaella handmaidens, the Drinkwater girl she thinks, finally speaks, jolting her awake.

Upon waking Rhaella finds her room bathed in candlelight, dawn barely slipping in through the curtains, and herself alone in the room with the Drinkwater girl. The girl was peering at her curiously, no doubt she heard her muttering in her sleep or something, and seemed to be averting her gaze whenever Rhaella glances up at her. Rhaella couldn't truly care less, unless Robert Baratheon had arrived. 

"Is he here?" She demanded as she began to rise, unwillingly noticing how the side of the bed Oberyn had slept on was made perfectly, almost like he hadn't been there at all.

"No, Your Grace. Though Prince Doran's scouts report that he is close. We have a few hours at best." The girl answers easily, obviously knowing who she refers to without asking. Everyone was anticipating Robert's arrival anxiously in Dorne.

"And what of my lord husband?" Rhaella asks as she shrugs out of her nightgown and into the bath the girl had drawn while she slept.

"He left just left a few moments ago, Your Grace. He instructed I let you sleep while he prepared. He was heading to the armory, I think." The girls answers while she massages Rhaella scalp, every once in awhile stealing a glance at the scars that dotted Rhaella back and arms. 

"Did he seem to think that they'd storm the castle?" Rhaella asks nonchalantly, sounding more like she was talking about the weather rather than their impending doom.

"He didn't mention anything that hinted at the fact, Your Grace. He did leave something for you, though, Your Grace." The girl answers awkwardly, perking Rhaella's interest.

"Hmm. Is that so?" She asks as she scrubs off the soap in the scalding hot water. "Do you know what it is?"

"No, Your Grace." The girl answers shortly, sitting back and nursing her slightly burnt hands as Rhaella finished bathing. "Prince Oberyn wouldn't let me open it."

Rhaella nods her understanding, and quickly finishes in the bath. Once she's out and dried, the box containing her husband's gift lies at her feet. Her handmaiden seemed to think it was a dress.

Rhaella opens the box slowly, doing her best to not rip the shiny paper that covers the box, making it shimmer elegantly. In her cautiousness with the paper though, she finds that she almost misses the note that Oberyn had pinned to the top of the box, sandwiched as it was underneath the silver of the paper and the hard, black wood underneath. 

To my lady wife,   
Though neither of us wanted this arrangement, I hope I haven't proven too bad a husband so far. Happy nameday. 

From,   
Oberyn

Rhaella found the note very odd, until she remembered that her nameday had passed a few weeks back, before the wedding. She hadn't even remembered it herself. How did he find out about it? Who would've told him? How odd was it that he remembered but she didn't. All she recalled was Rhaegar's birthday passing and therefore the anniversary of Summerhall. She always had kept track of her nameday with Rhaegar's after Summerhall. Theirs was only a few days apart, and it was easier to focus on the namedays rather than the death of her family. Now she didn't even have that though. Rhaegar's spirit wasn't wanted in Dorne. All she had was death now, and no time to mourn.

Opening the box revealed two pins, one of a deep bronze and the other of a shiny red-gold, sitting peacefully on what seemed like a simple strip of black cloth. Similar in color, the pins' obvious differences were the sigils they represented. House Martell's shining sun and spear were carved into the bronze beautifully, while the fierce three-headed dragon of House Targaryen took shape on the red-gold pin.

"Is it a dress, Your Grace?" Rhaella's handmaiden asks curiously, before clapping a hand over her mouth, no doubt realizing her rudeness.

"It's fine, Deria." Rhaella soothes, barely remember the girl's name, before answering. "And I'm not sure. So far it's only two pins."

"Oh." Deria replies quietly, letting the conversation drop as she continued to watch Rhaella.

Rhaella found that Deria's assumption, that Oberyn had given her a dress, was correct as she carefully placed the pins to the side and pulled the silky black fabric up. Though it was no simple dress, it was an absolute work of art.

The dress's top wasn't nearly as intricate in detail as its bottom, yet it was beautiful nonetheless. Light and airy, the dress's top managed to be as inky as night without causing any of Dorne's heat to cling to her and cause discomfort. Speaking of discomfort, it was also cut more conservatively, with light lacy sleeves that had fierce, black dragons roaring past each other and a neckline that didn't drop, something Rhaella was grateful for. The skirt though... The skirt was where the real beauty was found. With every single color that ever was associated with House Martell and House Targeryen, ranging to a light lilac matching Viserys's eyes to a deep blood red that matched the red sands that surrounded Sunspear's walls, it felt like every color that was ever seen as beautiful was on Rhaella's dress.

"Wow..." Deria sighs as Rhaella passes her the dress. "When I marry Lord Dalt's son I hope he loves me enough to buy me dresses even close to this beautiful."

"That's not what love is, my dear. Someday you might find that out, to your own chagrin." Rhaella answers back with a sigh, thinking unwillingly of Ser Bonifer and his loyalty, Aerys and his violence, and Oberyn with his sweet kindness and sharp vengeance.

Rhaella had thought the dress was the last of her decadent gifts, since surely Oberyn would want to spend little money after spending so much on such a beautiful dress, but she was wrong. With one last peak into the box before she threw it away, Rhaella discovered the most gorgeous gift of all.

"Oh my..." Rhaella says breathlessly as she holds the delicate, light cloak up to light for easier inspection.

If Rhaella's new gown had been a work of art, then surely the cloak that went with it was a masterpiece. At the top of the light blue and red cloak a shimmering, golden sun shone, so brilliantly crafted that every shifting stitch seemed like actual sunlight. Atop the sun was a brilliantly fierce three-headed dragon, a spear held tightly in the mouth of the center dragon while the other two screeched, that was stitched in deep scarlet and black. Below the huge dragon and shimmering sun, was stitched sand as vast and beautiful as the mountains that surrounded Sunspear. Light red with glimmering green grass and spots of tan sand here and there, the bottom of the cloak was beautiful and clever as it hid five snakes in it's design. The first snake was blood red and huge, and stitched between patches of grass, seeming to be trying to hide itself. Rhaella didn't doubt this snake stood for Oberyn himself. The second snake was a deep burnt orange and not near as large as the blood red snake Rhaella had found first, though it hid well in the light red sand. Slightly away from the first snake, yet close enough to be following, Rhaella knew this little snake must stand for little Obara, who not only looked like her father but tried so hard to be like him as well. Farther away, closer to the sun and more out in the open, was the third snake, a small, golden thing, with it's sister, an even tinier, light blue creature. Tiny yet beautiful, the little golden snake was crafted from the same thread as the sun while the blue snake was made up of the same angelic, light blue that colored the sky surrounding the sun. It didn't take a maester to know that the golden snake must stand for little Nym, and the blue for Tyene. Lastly, a minuscule snake that was the same plum color of the original sun of the Martell banners was planted in the center of her cloak, right in between the giant, red viper and it's daughters that were out in the open. There was a little thread of white, perhaps standing for a newly hatched egg, nearby, and Rhaella knew the tiny snake was a nice representation of the newest sand snake, Sarella. 

"Your Grace..." Rhaella's handmaiden, Deria Drinkwater, says uncertainly as she helped Rhaella into her new gown, her eyes never once leaving the cloak that Rhaella now had placed on her vanity.

"A lot of detail isn't it? And very beautiful too." Rhaella remarks in response once she was dressed. And dangerous too, she adds unwillingly, knowing that His Grace, Robert Baratheon, would not appreciate the support and unity that House Martell now had with House Targaryen.

"Yes, Your Grace." Her handmaiden answers cheerily, though she continued to bite her lip nervously. "Though, if I maybe so bold, I do not think the Usurper will not appreciate the sentiment."

"He will not. That's part of the beauty in it though, isn't it? I'll die looking beautiful and aggravating Robert Baratheon." She japes, trying to get a nervous laugh or two out of her handmaiden. 

"I suppose so, Your Grace, though I'd rather you didn't die at all." Deria answers while she pins one of Rhaella's silver curls back, her tone never betraying the fact she must be terrified. "Now, which crown would you like to wear today?"

Rhaella had little enough crowns to choose from in truth, as she had only managed to grab a few of House Targaryen's crowning glories in her rush to leave Dragonstone. She only had time to send for the crowns of the best Kings, few which could be found on the Island, and very little enough time to send for the only two crowns of her queenly ancestors she knew to exist on Dragonstone, Queen Visenya and Queen Naerys's crowns. Despite this though, Rhaella had sent for them, for Daenerys's sake and Viserys's future queen as well. 

"Visenya's." Rhaella commands, her voice sharp and quick. She was more like Naerys as a Queen, that she knew, but today she couldn't be. Today, she'd have to be the warrior queen she never was. She'd have to be more like Visenya and Rhaenyra, or Daena the Defiant, even if the latter was no true Queen. Daena Targaryen technically had been Queen, as she had married her brother, Baelor the Blessed, but the marriage had a farce and never consummated, at least not by Baelor. Daena had been fucking her cousin Aegon and having his bastard while married to Baelor, yet hadn't even tried to hide the fact it wasn't her brother's son. Who could've known that the boy born of that union, Daemon Blackfyre, was going to plunge Westeroes into years and years of civil war? Perhaps, Daena had. Perhaps, she had meant for the boy too. Perhaps, she had meant for the boy to be her heir and her to be Queen after Baelor died.

She was the eldest of her sisters, after Baelor's death, and by all rights a sister comes before an uncle or a cousin. She was the Queen Mother of a traitor, just like Daena was. Her cousin usurped her throne too. Perhaps, we are not as dissimilar as she had first thought. Perhaps, she and the rest of the world were all just meant to repeat their family's history, over and over again, with slight differences each time until it becomes so twisted that a new tale emerges for the next generation to repeat.

The thought of such things made her shiver. Who will repeat Aerys's fate? Rhaella thought in dismay, before realizing he was just a repeat of other tales. Aerion Brightflame, Rhaegel the Mad, Maegor the Cruel, and even her Grandfather. The tale doesn't need to be exactly the same for it to have the same ending. 

"How's this, Your Grace?" Deria asks quietly as she settles Visenya's ancient, sharp crown upon Rhaella's brow. 

"Fine, Deria." Rhaella answers with a smile. In truth, it was uncomfortable, yet that was just how Visenya's crown sat. Jagged and sharp, the crown was tight to the head and cut into the brow when worn, not ever letting the person wearing it to be comfortable. At least it matched her dress. Made of iron and gold, with onyx carefully placed in each spike, Visenya Targaryen's crown was as rigid and sharp as the woman who had worn it when she ruled.

"We ought to get going then, Your Grace, if you are to meet Prince Oberyn and make an entrance worthy of a Queen by the time the usurper arrives." Deria proposes firmly as she set Rhaella's cloak in place with her new pins, and proceeded to offer Rhaella her arm.

"Yes. Let's."

Rhaella and Deria's walk toward the courtyard was slow and dreadful, each step echoing loudly in the castle's unusually quiet hall. It seemed everyone in the castle had hidden themselves and their children away, or fled. After what happened to King's Landing, she did not blame them. If she had been a servant, she would've fled too.

Despite the dreariness encapsulating them, Deria was still trying to be oddly cheery. The young girl of House Drinkwater was chattering eagerly to Rhaella, and pointing out little, beautiful details in the castle's architecture or paintings as they went. She strangely reminded Rhaella of her beloved and dead good-daughter, Elia. She even looked like Elia, except for her softer nose and rounder face. Perhaps, Loreza's mother or father had been a Drinkwater and Elia had inherited their appearance. She had no way of knowing. Loreza refused to talk about her parents. 

Though in truth, it wasn't the girl's appearance so much that made Rhaella reminisce of Elia as it was her personality. She had Elia's quiet strength in her too, and her sweet wit. Her kindness, was there as well. Rhaella wasn't sure if the similarities were a comfort or just another reminder of her loss. She wasn't sure that it mattered.

When they arrived at the courtyard, Rhaella was astounded by how many people there were. In contrast to the quiet hallways, no place in the courtyard was without a human being. Tents were pitched everywhere she looked, barely leaving any of gaps of Earth between each other for pathways, and the sounds of screaming children and fearing men and women filled the walls. All the smallfolk that could be rounded up from the Shadow City and beyond were within Sunspear's walls, and just the noise of them all was overwhelming. It reminded Rhaella of being in the merchant district of King's Landing, in the way everyone seemed to be yelling for something or another. The stench and chaos of the people reminded Rhaella more of Flea Bottom more than anything, though. 

Just the thought of Flea Bottom always made bile rise in her throat. Aerys would always threaten to have her paraded through the streets of Flea Bottom like a common whore whenever he got it into his head that Rhaegar wasn't his son. Just the thought of such memories made her shiver. 

Despite the bright sunlight of dawn, Rhaella imagined Sunspear had never looked this dark. She was sure it had never been this chaotic. Men, women and children were everywhere and they swarmed upon Rhaella and Deria like flies, begging their queen to save them. It was beyond Rhaella to how Deria managed to find Oberyn in all of this mess, yet she was grateful to her when she did.

"Hello!" Oberyn greets cheerfully as he practically screamed in her face in an attempt to be heard. "Enjoying the view, Your Grace?"

Rhaella knew it was a jape, though it was a poor one, and hardly the time. Despite this though, she smiled at him. He looked boyish dressed in his blood-red leather armor, and sweeping cloak. His cloak was identical to hers, and pinned with the exact same pins. Her stupidly kind, and sentimental husband. She would kill him if he died today.

"It could be worse." She replies with a shrug as she left Deria's side to go to his. "Robert Baratheon could be summoning an army of storms upon us at the moment, while Lord Stark commands an army of wolves to break down our doors, and Lord Arryn sends his best army of falcons to fly over our walls and peck out our guards' eyes." 

"I have to admit, that would be more entertaining." Oberyn laughs mirthlessly as he leads her toward the gates of the castle, where they'd meet the usurper and decide if he was friend or foe. As if he'll ever be seen as a friend after his sins, Rhaella thought bitterly, even if he did come here to negotiate peace.

"How long do we have? And how many men?" She asks carefully, her joking forgotten.

"Not even an hour. They'll be breaking the horizon before we know it." Oberyn answers with a sigh. "Also, as many men as you'd expect. Maester Caleotte was pretty accurate. We have to waste a lot of men guarding the smallfolk though."

The smallfolk woildnt be needing guards if Robert's men storm the castle, Rhaella thought miserably. They'd be good as dead anyways. 

Rhaella bit back her bitter remarks. They wouldn't serve to help anyone, and Oberyn no doubt knew the risks of today's meeting. He would be leading the defense of Dorne if Robert tried anything, after all. 

Oberyn didn't show any anxiety about being the head of Dorne's military today, but rather was quite the contrary. Japing with the guards who were stationed at the gate, letting some small children play with his spear, and promising safety to any of the smallfolk who had the courage to converse with their prince, Oberyn seemed to be quite at ease. If it wasn't for the fact his glance kept flickering nervously to the horizon, Rhaella might've assumed her husband was enjoying today.

It would be another hour before the call finally came that Robert Baratheon's retinue had broken the horizon, and when it came terrible chaos broke out.

"I saw them!! Black and gold banners break the horizon with cream and blue following suit!" One of the guards from one of Sunspear's watchtowers screams as he approached Oberyn and Rhaella, setting the massive crowd into panic.

"Calm, man! Return to your position and hold it!" Oberyn commands to the simple guard before turning the two generals who have swarmed around them. "Lord Jordayne, command the archers to take their position."

"But, ser, no one has seen any sign of attack. Won't Lord Baratheon and Arryn see this as an insult and a provocation?" An olive skinned man whom Rhaella takes for Lord Jordayne protests.

"My lord, you were called here to lead, not argue. If you are incapable of doing so, then I'll find someone else who can." Oberyn snaps angrily before turning to the last of his meager generals. "Ser Toland, rally the guard and make sure they take position around the castle gates and windows. We must be ready for an attack. Lastly, Lady Meria, make sure that the smallfolk are rounded up and kept inside. No one is allowed outside their tents, and those in the castle must be kept inside. Someone send word to my brother!"

After Oberyn's angry outburst and flurry of commands, no one dared to argue with him. Lord Jordayne, Ser Toland, and Lady Meria, who it appeared was a distant relative of Oberyn and Doran's, instead they just shared brief glances of slight confusion and hesitation before going to do their duties, leaving Rhaella and Oberyn alone.

"Are you ready?" Rhaella asks nervously, acutely aware of how not ready she was to meet her son's killer. Would Rhaegar's killer still resemble that little, black-haired boy who had, with his little brother, hid behind her skirts because he was scared of his uncle? Or will that little boy be as dead and gone as Aerys's boyhood form had been once he ascended to the throne?

Instead of answering, Oberyn shrugs and asks a question of his own. "Are you?" 

Rhaella could see her answer reflected in her husband's eyes. No, I'm not, and neither are you, Oberyn's eyes seem to scream. As bloodthirsty as he seemed to be, it seemed Oberyn had his limits too. Bloodshed would never compare the feeling of his sister in his arms, of his niece's feathery kisses, or his nephew's sleepy smiles and bright violet eyes. Just the thought of such things, of Elia and her children, made her want to weep. As sweet as revenge is, it would never bring them back.

Rhaella didn't even bother answering her husband's question. Instead, she trained her eyes on the swinging open of the thick, wooden doors that acted as a drawbridge of sorts between the iron gates and the castle. It was with the opening of these doors did Rhaella truly realize how many men were at their door.

Though it was hard to tell through the thick bars of the castle gates and the walls that stood in place, Rhaella could tell that Robert's numbers almost covered the horizon, and even if they were spread out thinly, it was still an immense amount of men.

"Quite a lot of men for a meeting of peace." Oberyn japes halfheartedly as a rider, an older man with the cream and blue eagle of House Arryn upon his cloak, was approaching cautiously. "Almost makes you think they might have other ideas on how they might handle us rebellious lords."

The riders approach was dreadfully slow, even on horseback, and for a moment or two Rhaella thought the man was going to die upon his horse rather than arrive. With his arms full of his white flag, a sign of peace, and his cautiousness at how all of Sunspear's archers were trained on him, he was already moving quite slowly. Yet despite this slowness, riding was still too much for him and he required breaks every few meters to cough up blood or just to catch his breath. By the time he finally arrived at the gate, a half hour had passed and blood seemed to spot every few feet of the Dornish sands.

"Greetings, my name is Lord Olyvar Arryn, second son of Lord Robar Arryn of Gulltown, cousin to Lord Jon Arryn of the Vale and Lord Protector of the East. I come in the name of His Grace, King Robert Baratheon, to bring terms of surrender and peace." The shabby looking man announces as he neares, his straw-colored hair falling into his eyes and his cheeks red as rubies as he does. He looked little like his greater cousin, the lord of the Vale, as fat and unhealthy as he was. Yet despite his lack of Arryn appearance, he still appeared to have his pride in House Arryn, Gulltown Arryn or not.

"King Robert wants to surrender to Dorne? I mean I don't blame him, yet I have to admit my surprise..." Oberyn replies sarcastically, causing the already red-faced Lord Arryn to grow redder, if possible.

"That was not... I mean I came here to talk of Dorne's surrender to His Grace, Robert Baratheon, um, Ser..." Lord Olyvar splutters awkwardly and angrily.

"My name, Ser, is Prince Oberyn Martell, second son and third child of Loreza Martell, Red Viper of Dorne, and husband to our beautiful Queen Regent, Rhaella Targaryen." Oberyn pronounces with a viper like grin, watching with joy as the man squirmed under Rhaella's and his gaze. "I can understand how you confused me though, as us Dornish tend to look alike." 

"My apologies, My Prince, My lady." Lord Olyvar spits out angrily, his glare never leaving Rhaella. "Yet last I knew, Cersei Lannister was named Queen when we left King's Landing."

Rhaella can feel Oberyn's anger next to her, and the stiffness from the guards as well. Rhaella has earned the trust of Sunspear's people in the last few weeks, as she is one of it's Princesses now, and they took the insult to her about as well as her new husband did.

"Cersei Lannister is no Queen of mine, and her name holds no power in Dorne, much like your new King. If Robert sent you here to listen to our pleads for mercy, he'll be very mistaken. Dorne has plenty of men, and supplies. Try to take the castle and meet our arrows and spears. Wait us out, and find that your men will starve. The choice is yours." Rhaella proclaims evenly, pausing only to see Lord Olyvar's dull brown eyes widen in surprise, before continuing. "If your usurper truly means to avoid bloodshed, then he'll come himself next time with Elia's, Rhaenys's, and Aegon's bones in tow and promises of justice on his lips. He'll come with Ser Gregor's head in his hands, and promises of my children's safety in Dorne with their new siblings. Until then though, Dorne will never surrender. It was it's own kingdom once, and it can easily be again."

Lord Olyvar's surprise at her declaration is obvious, yet he takes it in surprising stride. He's gone before he can even receive Oberyn's sharp warning with his tail between his legs, his horse not stopping once as he hurried back to his false king. Such a sight causes Rhaella and Oberyn to lose themselves laughing. 

"What you did was either incredibly foolish or incredibly daring." Oberyn says between bouts of laughter, his approval for what she's done written on his face.

"And if Robert kills us all because of what I said?" Rhaella asks seriously, not able to stop herself from asking.

"Then he probably would've done it anyways." Oberyn answers with a shrug, his laughter forgotten for a moment as he too becomes serious. "He can't be angry with your demands, anyways. They're logical."

"Kings are hardly ever logical."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me begin by saying I'm terribly sorry about not updating. With school starting back up and sports taking up most of my time, I've hardly had anytime to write. Nevertheless I should've updated sooner and for that I'm sorry. I'm also sorry that this chapter didn't actually feature Robert specifically. Their meeting will be held in the next chapter, which is actually just the second part of this chapter. I had to cut the chapters in two due to extreme length. Be prepared though, I have everything prepared now and will be updating again tomorrow!! Thank you all for reading and coming back to this story after my mini hiatus! Also, if you enjoyed this chapter or have anything you'd like to say, please comment below! I love seeing comments from you guys!


	12. A Storm in Sunspear

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rhaella, Oberyn, and Doran meet with Robert Baratheon in an attempt to make peace.

It does not take long for word of Rhaella's proclamation to reach Robert and his army. Rhaella and Oberyn watch on with vague interest as men, great lords and smallfolk alike, draw their meager weapons in fury while anger rips through the army like one terrible crashing wave, drowning each man it's wake. 

"Death to the Dragon Whore!" Most men scream, brutishly, while others scream, "Death to the bloody Viper and his Dragon Whore!" A select few bloodthirsty and reckless souls even yell, "Death to House Targaryen! Death to House Martell!"

Rhaella is not surprised by their harshness, far from it, actually. An army must have a cause after all, and recently this army lost there's. Rallying behind the cause of killing the last Targaryens and their last major supporters seems like the logical thing to do, from Rhaella's perspective at least, but that didn't mean it was justified. Obara is only ten, and Viserys is barely eight, Rhaella thought helplessly. Arianne is young too, only nine at the most. That was without mentioning the younger girls, little Nym and sweet Tyene, and the babes as well. Do they not realize that they call for the death of children, Rhaella wondered helplessly, of babes in arms?

Rhaella's first peak of Robert Baratheon as a man is little more than a glitter of gold in the far off distance, the man's golden stag helm shimmering brightly as the harsh Dornish sun beats down upon it. He was hidden by a wall of guards, making his apparel and appearance impossible to observe, as they held their shields high enough that no arrow would ever reach their precious king. Despite his cowardice in hiding behind his men, his presence alone quiets all the jeers and chants of his men. It was something that might have been impressive if he was any other man. 

Robert wastes no time in calming his men, his voice too quiet and far away to discern, before he's off. Riding speedily with his guards in tow, he takes little time to meet Rhaella and Oberyn at Sunspear's door. 

"Lord Robert! How nice of you to join us!" Oberyn japed mockingly as Robert begins to slow his horse, his golden helm still placed firmly on his head.

When Robert finally stops, Rhaella can finally observe him in all his royal splendor. Upon a huge, black warhorse and dressed in head to toe in golden armor, Robert Baratheon looked like some kind of hero out of one of the songs she loved so as a girl.

Just seeing Robert sickens Rhaella, so much so she can barely look at him. He is not the truly most impressive, or frightening man there though. That honor goes to a man dressed in crimson armor, and an equally golden helm.

Lord Lannister sits an equally decadent warhorse in obvious distaste as he rides slowly behind his King. Beside her, Rhaella can feel Oberyn visibly tense as he sees the Lion join the battle.

"We did not come here to trade mocking japes, Prince Oberyn. Lead us to your brother Doran, so the true meeting can begin." Lord Arryn, says as he takes off his cream and blue helm. He rides beside the Lord Lannister, slightly behind Robert, and his posture shows the weariness and weakness that the man himself would never give away.

"And why should I do that? So you can kill my beloved brother and his children? Or perhaps take away my step-children and new wife? Perhaps you'll kill my own children as well, who hold no importance as bastards, as a sort of perverse pleasure." Oberyn spits angrily, his eyes never leaving Lord Lannister. "I'll pass."

"What are you trying to say, Viper?" Robert spits as he finally rips off his golden stag helm, surprising and pleasing Rhaella. Robert looks little like his father, her beloved cousin Steffon, and so he's much easier to hate.

"You know what we speak of." Rhaella spits, her voice dripping with venom, at the lords gathered at the gate. 

All the men present, Oberyn included, look surprised to see her speak. Though where there is great pleasure and amusement in Oberyn's eyes, the other men regard her coolly. They certainly weren't expecting her to be there, let alone speak.

"Cousin Rhaella, how nice it is to see you." Robert says coolly, his false, forced familiarity making Rhaella's skin crawl. "I must say that when I was told you had wedded and bedded the Red Viper, I feared you'd be lost to us."

"How dare you!" Oberyn spits angrily, ripping his spear out of its sheath. "You will not speak of my wife so!"

Robert laughed mirthlessly in response. "Do you already have your husband wrapped around your finger, cousin? It's too bad you couldn't do the same with Uncle Aerys."

A chill runs down Rhaella's spine, unwillingly, at the mention of Aerys. "You get off topic, little cousin. My marriage is none of your concern." Rhaella responds, her anger cool and biting, before turning to Lord Arryn. "We will tell you the same thing as we told your idiotic cousin, my lord. We want Elia and her children's bones, and Ser Gregor's head. Dorne will never surrender until justice is served."

Instead of responding, Lord Arryn beckons two guards forward. While Robert fumes, the men open the chest, taking Rhaella and Oberyn's breathe away.

The golden chest stinks of death, even closed, and upon opening it, Rhaella's worst fears are confirmed. A blood-soaked Lannister cloak covers the worst of it, yet Rhaella is able to identify three skulls and the tan, rotting flesh of her gooddaughter, before Lord Arryn's men slam the chest shut.

"We have the bones, as I knew you'd all ask for them. Ser Gregor remains in King's Landing, guarding the new queen, though, and without Lord Tywin I cannot guarantee his death." Lord Arryn says wearily, his face twisted in disgust at her family's remains. "This is what we have to offer. Take it or leave it."

Rhaella feels her heart bursting, her world collapsing, as she relives the terrible day she learned of Elia and Rhaegar's children demise far too vividly for comfort. It's only Oberyn's strong grip on her hand, and the cold stares of the men before her that keeps her from fainting.

"You said Tywin isn't with you?" Rhaella asks meekly, while she tries to control the nausea rising in her.

"No, but he sends his regards. In his place, I am his representative." The Lion Lord she assumed to be Tywin Lannister states as he lifts his helm revealing himself to not be the Terrible Tywin, but rather his lesser little brother, Ser Kevan Lannister. 

"You will not take any guards, and only you three lords will be allowed in. If you try anything, step one toe out of line, you'll be dead before your arrival can even be announced to my brother." Oberyn says icily, his fiery passion for justice extinguished at the sight of his sister's ruined corpse, leaving only cold, black rage behind.

Robert Baratheon moves as if to argue, or fight, but is stopped by his mentor before he can even get a word out.

"We want some bread and salt. Guest right is our right." Lord Arryn says as the last creaky gate opens before them, leaving nothing between Robert's army and Sunspear now.

Instead of replying, Oberyn snorts at the man's response. "Like guest right would save you from a spear in your back or a knife in your heart."

Rhaella can see that it takes all of Lord Arryn and Ser Lannister's skills in diplomacy not to respond to Oberyn's harsh comment, yet Robert Baratheon is hardly so restrained.

"How dare you?!" The Usurper exclaims as he shoves his way through the smallfolk who had the guts to stay outside.

Oberyn ignores the Usurper's indignation with ease, instead choosing to try and provoke the other two lords present.

"Do you like all our gathered smallfolk, Ser Kevan? I'll tell you for some reason or another, Doran insisted that we bring them into our walls. It's almost like he thought they'd be slaughtered." Oberyn japes mockingly, his voice icy and harsh. "I wonder why he had such thoughts like that?"

"It's hardly my business what Prince Doran does with his smallfolk. My only business here is to see that peace is returned to the realm." Ser Kevan manages to spit out between his stiffly clenched jaw.

"I'm sure, Ser. Why would you want anything less than peace? It's not like you and your family live for the suffering of others." Oberyn replies sharply, causing Ser Kevan to perk up in indignation. He, though, is held back by Lord Arryn, the man who seemed to be the true leader here.

"Can we perhaps attempt to be civil, Oberyn? You do not need to make your brother's people suffer because of your sharp tongue." Jon Arryn says reproachfully, as they finally enter the actual castle.

"The people already suffer, mainly due to your war. My sharp tongue reminding you of your sins has nothing to do with it." Oberyn snaps back with a tone full of venom.

Rhaella could kiss her husband for that comment alone. We won't ever let them forget what they've done, Rhaella thought with some mild satisfaction. Oberyn and I will never let them forget how many people they've hurt, how much they made the realm bleed. We will hold them accountable even if no one else will.

It was a small victory in truth, that little piece of justice, and it wasn't long before it was forgotten by the arrival of the small party into Sunspear's great hall. 

Sunspear's great hall was an architectural masterpiece that seemed to take Rhaella's breathe away every time she entered. Unlike the foreboding, harsh Throne Room of Rhaella's home, Sunspear's great hall was of great beauty. Starting with the tall arches and high walls of the castle that seemed to have risen from Dorne's sands of their own accord, to the painted glass windows depicting different Martell's great feats, and to the ornate, golden throne in the middle of the dais, everything in Sunspear's huge hall was dangerously beautiful. Like a sweet poison, the biggest Viper's nest in Dorne was sweet to those not cautious of it. 

Robert Baratheon looked absolutely livid at the idea of meeting Prince Doran in such a public place where he held so much power, and Rhaella could practically hear his protest before they even began.

"This is an outrage! Does Prince Doran expect us to bow down to him, to kiss his feet and proclaim him our Prince, in this meeting? It's absolutely ridiculous!" The Usurper raged at his master in hurried whispers as Oberyn and Rhaella led the men to Doran. 

"Watch your tone, Robert. The realm cannot handle more bloodshed. Do not make others suffer because of your temper." Lord Arryn commands his protégé and King quietly.

Robert Baratheon is not given another moment more to fume in response, and instead is forced to feign civility as Doran rises to his feet in greeting.

"Welcome to Sunspear, my lords. Shall we begin our meeting?" Doran greets calmly, his voice quiet yet commanding. 

"Greetings, Prince Doran. It's wonderful to see you again." Jon Arryn greets falsely while Rhaella and Oberyn slip to Doran's side. "Perhaps we could have some food and drinks? The ride here was, as you might imagine, quite tiring." 

"Oh I'm sure you all are exhausted! My apologies though, I'm afraid I have nothing on hand. I'll surely send to the kitchens when we're done here." Doran replies, somehow keeping the mocking tone from his voice. 

"Ah that's fine. We'd hate to be another strain on your already limited resources. How many people do you have stationed in your little courtyard, by the way?" Lord Arryn replies icily, the barely hidden snarky remarks going by none of them.

"Not nearly enough, in my opinion. If it were in my power I'd house all of Dorne's smallfolk in Sunspear to protect those who might hurt them." Doran replies casually, not rising to Lord Arryn's bait. "You didn't come here to hear my worries though. You came hear to talk of peace, so we shall."

"Perhaps we might talk somewhere more secluded, say your solar? And with less of an audience, perhaps?" Ser Kevan interrupts quietly, causing much surprise. It wasn't wise for a Lannister to be in Dorne currently, let alone open his mouth and raise attention to himself.

"Ah, Ser Lannister. It's quite surprising to see you here. Was your brother too busy hijacking the rebellion and murdering innocents to come?" Doran replies, his anger as cold as The Wall. He doesn't give Ser Kevan a chance respond before Doran continues. "Nevertheless, it matters little. Lord Tywin's presence isn't wanted in Dorne, and neither are the rest of you. Hurry up and give us your terms, Ser, and be done with it." 

"You speak harshly, my prince, too harshly in my opinion. You should remember we have an army at your door." Lord Arryn replies sharply while Ser Lannister glowers angrily. 

"And you, my lord, should remember you stand within Sunspear's walls, surrounded by Sunspear's guards and soldiers." Doran answers icily, his threat clearly surprising their guests.

"You dare threaten a king?!" Robert Baratheon storms angrily, obviously not taking Doran's threat to heart.

"I do not threaten, I simply remind you of a simple fact. Now, what are your terms?" Doran replies casually, almost as if he hadn't threatened the party of three in the first place.

"Our terms are simple. We return Elia and her children's body, possibly give you Ser Gregor's head, and in return we ask for Viserys Targaryen and his sister." Lord Arryn answers, his anger forgotten in his eager search for peace.

Rhaella shuddered to think of what her children's fate might be once given to Robert Baratheon and his men. Unwillingly, she imagined the chest of rotting flesh and death to contain two more bodies. Just the idea made her sick.

"No." Rhaella found herself saying in a tone forceful and strong, unlike how she truly felt. "You will never have my children, I will not allow it."

"I do not believe we were speaking to you, cousin." Robert Baratheon spat. "We came here to meet with Doran Martell, no one else." 

"It matters little. My goodsister speaks for us all. You will not be taking Viserys and Daenerys Targaryen out of their mother's custody so long as there is breath in my body." Doran replies firmly, before Oberyn lost it and clocked the man.

"You would sacrifice your realm's safety for the sake of two children who are not even your flesh and blood?" Lord Arryn questions harshly, his tone hard and unyielding.

"They are my children now, stepchildren to a Prince of Dorne. They are Dorne''s children now, as Dorne is theirs." Oberyn cut in furiously. "I will not let you rip them away from their mother to be used as your pawns."

"They would only be wards. They would grow up in the Red Keep, their true home. They'd be fostered with Robert's own children. Before long, they'd grow up and if they proved loyal then they could even have Summerhall restored to them." Lord Arryn replies calmly, not perturbed by Oberyn's outburst. 

"They'd be hostages, even if they were in their ancestral home. One step out of line by myself or my wife, and they'd be dead." Oberyn answers back before Rhaella is given a chance to respond.

"Not necessarily. Just don't step out of line and they're just simple wards." Lord Arryn replies with a smile. "There are other options though." 

"What other options?" Doran asks pointedly.

"A marriage contract, perhaps? Keep Daenerys here for a while, and then marry her to Robert's firstborn son when she comes of age. She'd be a queen, and the Targaryen legacy would continue on." Lord Arryn responds with a smile, no doubt thinking he's won his little game, while Robert Baratheon fumes silently behind him.

Marrying Daenerys to Robert's first son would buy them time to plan and plot, yet Rhaella couldn't help but fear for her daughter's safety. There would be no guarantee that Robert's son wouldn't be a lunatic, or that they wouldn't just use Daenerys as leverage over her and Viserys. There was also the threat that if Daenerys did actually marry Robert's son, an idea she hated to even dwell upon, that she'd have to choose which of her children and her grandchildren deserves the cursed Iron Thrones more. She couldn't do it, she refused.

She'd let them think she accepted their idiotic plans, and when they'd least expect it she'd let everything they'd done come crashing down. 

"And what about Viserys?" Doran questions once more, drawing Rhaella out of her thoughts.

"Viserys is nonnegotiable. He must come to the Red Keep." Lord Arryn replies sternly, his voice losing its harshness in a brief moment of pity. "He will be a cupbearer, and perhaps be taken on as a squire to either Robert or I if he proves worthy enough." 

"Can't you send him to the Vale? To Winterfell? To Storm's End?" Rhaella interrupts in desperation. If Viserys was sent to the Red Keep, Robert would surely kill him when he came of age. 

"It would be best for us all if he came to the Red Keep, I think. That way your compliance can be guaranteed." Lord Arryn replies gently, his pity shining bright in his dark brown eyes.

"Please, my lords, I beg you not to take him. He's my last son. My only son now. You've taken one son, please don't take another." Rhaella begs, forgetting her rage in her absolute desperation. "Marry him to Robert's daughter, proclaim that his future children cannot carry on the Targaryen name, I don't care. Just please don't take him." 

Lord Arryn and Ser Kevan stare back at her in pity while the Usurper averts his eyes. Unable to face the result of his sins, Robert instead pretends they didn't exist. At least Lord Arryn and Ser Kevan had some shame, Rhaella thought angrily while her tears threatened to spill out and show them how truly desperate she was.

"We cannot leave here without the promise that Viserys will come to the Red Keep at some point. I truly am sorry, Rhaella, but that is simply how it must be." Lord Arryn says kindly, his voice too kind for Rhaella's liking. "Perhaps, though, we can wait to take the boy until he's older." 

Rhaella's heart perks up eagerly at Lord Arryn's sudden leniency. Pity was an easy card to play for Rhaella, for she truly was heartbroken and hurt, yet she hated to play it all the same. All her life men and women had pitied her. They had pitied her as the princess without a choice, the princes with a lost family, they pitied her as the barren queen, and they pitied her as the abused queen. She couldn't stand it. Yet for Viserys and his future, she'd cry the lords a river.

"And what would this cost us, Viserys not being sent to the Red Keep later? Gold? One of our other children? A marriage pact?" Doran asks cautiously, his suspicion obvious.

"A bit of all. We'd request one of Oberyn's daughters be sent as a cupbearer when Viserys is sent to us, some gold in the meantime to pay for the war, and a marriage pact between Arriane Martell and one of the sons of loyal vassals, perhaps Edmure Tully or Robb Stark." Lord Arryn answered evenly, his voice giving no sign of his obvious anxiety to be done with the deal.

"How much gold?" Oberyn asks sharply, his slightly uneasy tone practically undetectable.

"1,000 gold dragons for each year Viserys spends in Dorne." Lord Arryn replies smoothly. "Every time the boy leaves Dorne the price will go up or you will be punished accordingly." 

"I will not pay you 1,000 gold dragons. Not unless you offer me something in return." Doran answers evenly causing Rhaella to shoot him a sharp look. If he destroyed this deal for gold, and they just stormed the castle instead of making peace it would be his fault.

"You already ask too much. What else could you want?" Robert Baratheon says brutishly, his anger obviously only increasing as the meeting dragged on. 

"Justice. Peace. Safety. We want a guarantee." Doran answers evenly. "A child from each of you, excluding Ser Kevan, as a way to guarantee our children's safety in your care. We'd also like Ser Gregor's head."

"It is as the king said, you ask too much. We cannot let you have one of the future royal children." Lord Arryn says plainly, unease at the thought obvious. 

"We can and we will. Perhaps not a son, as you and the Westeroes see them more important, but a daughter. A little princess to act as ward and betrothed to my son, Quentyn." Doran shoots back, not backing down from his somewhat preposterous proposal.

"When a princess is born, then and only then will we talk of a possible future betrothal. Until then you will pay, and in good time Viserys Targaryen will be sent to the Red Keep along with his sister, who will become the future queen, and his stepsister. I will send my future second son, or daughter to Dorne when they are of age, though I refuse to send my heir. In this time Arianne Martell, future Princess of Dorne, will marry either Hoster Tully's son, Ned Stark's son, or another lord's son as we see fit." Lord Arryn proclaimed evenly, summing up all their plans.

Doran looked dismayed at the proposal, as did Oberyn, yet Rhaella felt a surge of hope fill her at the prospect. They'd have time, plenty of it in fact, to fortify Dorne's defenses and gather men to her son's cause. They'd even have time to hide the children away if something went awry and Robert Baratheon picked up on their traitorous plans. It was more than they could of asked for, in truth.

"Will my children be safe then?" Rhaella asks one last time. She had to be sure that nothing would ever jeopardize Viserys's and Daenerys's safety. She would never let anything hurt her remaining children so long as she lived.

"As safe as they can be as the last Targaryens. At least, if you all behave yourself." Jon Arryn answered back with a victorious smile.

"And if we don't behave ourselves?" Oberyn asks quietly, the venom in his voice replaced by grief and sadness.

"Then House Targaryen's words reign true." Robert Baratheon answered back with a sickening grin. "What are they again, cousin?"

"Fire and blood." Rhaella replies between gritted teeth, her rage at being threatened with her own House words being almost indescribable. How dare this boy threaten her, a dragon of House Targaryen and Queen of the Realm, thought Rhaella furiously.

"Ah, yes. Fire and blood. I think that'd be an accurate description of all of Dorne if any of you step one toe out of line." Robert Baratheon says with a sneer, his dark blue eyes so like Steffon's yet so unlike them too. Steffon would never be capable of such hatred, or such violence.

It takes a second for Robert's words to sink to all the rest present, and when it does the great hall becomes something like a battle field. Oberyn, her sweet, sad husband is off the dais in a second and has his deadly spear at Robert's throat before anyone can blink. All the other guards replicate Oberyn's motion, surrounding the lords with the pointed edge of spears, and wait stiffly for Oberyn or Doran to give the command for them to kill. Only Doran has the good sense to react somewhat peacefully.

"ENOUGH!" Doran storms angrily, his usual calm and courteous temperament forgotten in blind rage. "Stand down, all of you, including you Oberyn! There will be no bloodshed today."

"He threatens us brother, all of us! Please Doran, let me avenge our sweet sister and her babes. Let me end it all before it even has a chance to begin." Oberyn's begs while voice betrays his boyish uncertainty and desperation. "Please, brother."

"Stand down, Oberyn." Doran commands in a dangerously quiet voice, causing Oberyn to take one step back from the man. It's then and only then that Doran shifts to face Robert Baratheon and his men. "You all will leave, now. We will accept your peace for now, but we will not accept you in our home. Get out of Dorne before nightfall before I can change my mind."

"You cannot threaten us and you certainly can't kick us out!" Robert Baratheon screams as the guards seize him and his men. "You are a mere lord. I am the king!" 

"Peace is something that should be celebrated, Prince Doran, and our men are exhausted. You must let us stay one night at least." Lord Arryn says, trying to be diplomatic. "Please, my prince, you must forgive us." 

In respond Doran looks down at the three men icily. His glare is colder then The Wall, and Rhaella fears what will come out of the usually cautious prince's mouth. For all their talk, they were not even close to being prepared for war.

"I must not do anything, and I certainly won't be celebrating tonight. I have a sister to mourn, my lord, and would like to be alone with my family to do it." Doran says quietly, though dangerously. "Remember my words. Do not remain in Dorne."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! I'm sorry for the slight delay in this chapter! I was looking it over and noticed a few editting errors but didn't have time to fix them until very recently. I hope you enjoyed this chapter! I tried to make it not terribly off book, but with enough dissent from Dorne to show Dorne was still a threat to Robert's rule. Also, up next will be somewhat of a time skip! Stay tuned because next chapter is going to be one heck of a ride! Also, thanks again for reading! If you enjoyed please let me know in the comments below and don't forget to leave a kudos!


	13. Update

Hey guys! If you have stayed with this story or have recently found it, I genuinely hope you have enjoyed it! It has been over two years since I updated it, and frankly I am in a completely different place now. However, I haven’t abandoned this story! I do plan on updating it eventually. Thanks again those who enjoyed and stuck with this work! I appreciate all your kind comments and support!

**Author's Note:**

> If you enjoyed this chapter please let me know by leaving kudos and comments below! I have a couple of chapters prepared so as of now I'll probably be updating every two days or so? If you think other wise then let me know please!


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